The Hunt
by Eurydice11
Summary: R-rated continuation of The Hunt, Buffy & Spike are being hunted by new enemies. Set S5, Joyce is still alive, Spike hasn't told Buffy his feelings yet. **COMPLETE**
1. In Search of Answers

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Xander has found a lead for the Scooby gang but is stuck keeping an eye on Dawn, while Buffy is working on the plan to get her and Spike out of Daymon's hold.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Due to FanFiction.net's decision to no longer host NC-17 stories, I am posting this as an R-rated continuation of The Hunt.  For those interested in the NC-17 version (including the first 10 chapters), please see my bio for the sites where it may be found.  For the thrust of the story, there are very few changes; only the addition of more graphic sexual content will differentiate the two.

*************

Her foot tapped impatiently against the air, beating out an imaginary staccato rhythm, and she sighed as she flipped the page of the book.  No one had come into the shop in over an hour, and Anya was beginning to regret telling Xander to go ahead and take Dawn home.  "Go on," she'd said.  "We can't have sex after we close with her here anyway."  Stupid boy.  Since when he did start listening to her?

Giles had left explicit instructions before he'd left.  "The replacement copy of the Tract of Telemus arrived yesterday," he'd said.  "Please look it over, see if you can find anything regarding the Hound."  

"It's a little late for research, isn't it?" she'd argued.  "They've already got Buffy."  The dirty look he'd shot her made her shut up, but for a fleeting moment, Anya had wished she could just cast one more spell, something that would maybe give Giles an unfortunate horn, or temporary uncontrollable giggles, or pustules along his…

The telephone ring cut through the hush of the store and Anya jerked upright as her hand snatched it up.  "Good evening, Magic Box," she chirped into the receiver.  Her smile vanished.  "For the sixth time tonight, this is not Sombrero Ole!"  The force as she slammed down the phone reverberated the countertop, sending the book skittering over the edge onto the floor.  "Damn it," she muttered, and bent over to pick it up.

Her fingers froze over the page, hovering just inches from the paper, as the image stared back at her.   Oh shit, she thought.  Where the hell is Giles when you need him?  As she scanned the tiny script, her mouth silently forming some of the words, the line between her eyes deepened.  We should've known about this sooner, she worried.  Without even bothering to pick up the book, she hopped off her stool and scurried over to the ladder.  "Please be there, please be there," she intoned.

At the sight of the books stacked up in the corner of the loft, Anya sighed.  I _told_ Giles he needed to go through these.  I'm never going to find it now.  But she was wrong.  There it was, right on top, almost begging her to pick it up.  Its emerald leather seemed to gleam under the fluorescents, the gold lettering glittering in anticipation.  She hesitated.  I could be wrong, she thought, then laughed out loud.  Good one, Anya.

It was right where she thought it would be, tucked between the entry about the Grand Evisceration and the one with the dream trolls.  Without the Tract of Telemus, there would've been no way for them to connect the dots.  But still…the ex-demon bit her lip as she re-read the passage.  Giles needed to know about this as soon as possible, although having known yesterday would definitely have been better.  With him and the witches out in the desert, however, there was nothing that could happen until morning.

Straightening, she shut the book and tucked it under her arm.  Morning it is then, she thought.  Maybe Xander will still be awake when I get home…

***********

"Is there a reason we couldn't do this in the morning?" Willow asked.

Giles glanced at her reflection in his rear-view mirror before looking back at the Sunnydale street before him.  "We've lost a day already," he replied.  "We really must be expeditious in this."  He frowned, glancing at her again.  "Are you all right?  Not feeling ill, are you?"

"Oh, no," said Willow.  "Haven't had a headache for, oh---."  She glanced at her watch.  "---twenty minutes now."  Next to her Tara smiled reassuringly, squeezing her lover's knee.

"I don't foresee any problem with casting the spell," Giles continued.  "The weather promises to be clear, and being so near the full moon, we should have fair enough illumination."

In the back seat of the car, the redhead slumped, her arms folded across her chest, and muttered, "Sure, for being miles from civilization, surrounded by crazed wild animals."

"Pardon?"

Willow sighed.  "I'm sorry, Giles.  Just not feeling like ra-ra girl for Operation Desert Spell.  I mean, yeah, it's great we finally have some info to get Buffy, but being out past the Lookout, in the middle of the night, with the full moon so soon…it's just giving me the ooglies."

Tara leaned over and whispered in her girlfriend's ear.  "What's so bad about the Lookout?"

From the front seat came, "They're just old wives' tales.  Nothing for us to be concerned about."

Willow waited until the Watcher was through the red light, concentrating on the traffic ahead of him again before leaning conspiratorially into Tara.  "The Lookout is named after this Spanish woman who supposedly ran away from her husband when he murdered their children.  She hid in the caves, only coming out at night to hunt for food and water, and eventually went crazy and started attacking anyone who trespassed.  They built the covered bridge to act as a kind of marker, so that people would know where Cortina's land started and keep away."

The car had come to a stop again and the girls heard Giles mutter, "Load of rubbish."

"Oh, I don't know," Tara argued.  "It sounds to me like it could've happened."

"No," Giles replied.  "I mean literally, a load of rubbish."  He pointed to the dumpster that had been overturned in the street, blocking any cars from passing. 

"I guess that means we'll just have to try again in the morning," Willow chirped.  "Darn the awful luck."

Giles frowned at her in his mirror.  "A small detour, perhaps," he chided.  "If you insist on relating that silly story, at least tell it in its entirety."

"There's more?"  A wide-eyed Tara looked at her partner expectantly.

Willow squirmed against the leather seat.  "Oh, just silly details," she evaded.  "Nothing of the important."

"Come now, tell her how the children were killed."  
There was no escaping the withering tone of his voice.  "…The husband ate them."

"And what happened to the bones?"

"…Cortina stole them…"

"And…?

"And…used them to dig out the caverns."  Her voice was getting smaller with each response and she seemed to be shrinking in her seat.

"Which housed…?"  

"…The bodies of the children she kidnapped to ease her loneliness."  Willow had shaded a deep red with each admission, embarrassed at the absurdity of it all.

"Like I said, old wives' tales," Giles stated.  "Fiction created by worried parents to scare children from exploring caves that could very likely prove to be dangerous if they were to get lost."

Tara snuggled against Willow's shoulder, one arm looped through her girlfriend's, with her free hand stroking the redhead's knee.  "It's OK," she soothed.  "The story gives me the ooglies, too."

*************

They'd opened the curtains as soon as the sun had set.  From where he was situated, Spike could see the near-full moon hanging in the velvet sky, the promise of her chilly caress filtering through the window.  It framed Buffy in silver as she stood looking out over the desert, and the vampire couldn't stop the smile relaxing his features.  God, she was magnificent.  

A simple silhouette against the glass, the Slayer's body was an insurgence of muscular curves.  Although Daymon's men had brought up a change of clothing for her, she still wore the tank and trousers she'd arrived in.  One look at the long skirt and high-necked blouse her captor had chosen and Buffy hadn't been able to control her laughter, joking about some bird named Ingalls before tossing the outfit into the corner.  Just as well, Spike thought.  Can't very well kick their ass if you're tripping over your knickers.

"Are you ready?"  A mere man wouldn't have heard Buffy's question, but the vamp had no problem picking it up, even with her back to him.

"I think I got it, Slayer," he said sarcastically.  "Not exactly brain surgery here."

She glanced back, more at the room then at Spike, and he tilted his head to try and see her features better.  "You're right," she murmured.  "Sorry."  Stepping away from the window, she perched herself on the edge of the bed.  "You comfortable enough?"

The vampire chuckled.  "You've got me tied to a chair," he replied, shaking his head.  "What do you bloody think?"  He expected some kind of reaction---anything, really---but Buffy seemed light years away.  "Hello?"  Nothing.  "Look, Buffy, this Houdini of yours kinda relies on you being present and accounted for, not roaming off in some mind field.  At least if you're going to bail on the plan, let me rip these off and have a good stretch before we turn in."  He shook the makeshift ties that bound his wrists behind the chair.

That seemed to wake the Slayer up.  "Nice try, Spike," she said dryly.  "You know this won't work if they think you're a real threat."

"Could you rub that in a wee bit more, luv?  'Cause I don't think I'm feeling low enough just yet."  He grimaced.  "And you tied me up too tight.  I'm losing my circulation."

She rolled her eyes.  "Spike, you don't have any circulation."  But she rose anyway, crossing to behind the chair.  The vamp could feel her loosen his bonds and wished for a moment that Daymon hadn't bothered bringing up another shirt for him.  Right about now, he would've done just about anything to feel her hands on his shoulders, massaging his neck, maybe a little kiss here, a little bite there…

"I need to know, Spike," Buffy was saying.  "Do you really believe in all that choice mumbo-jumbo?"  She hovered behind him, the heat of her body burning through the chair, his shirt, searing his back, until he had to consciously fight the urge to rip his bindings and just grab her.

"Well, yeah," he said.  "Sometimes fate steps in, decides to change the specials on you, but doesn't mean you don't get left with a new menu."

Stepping around, the Slayer stood in front of the bound vampire.  She wouldn't meet his eyes; instead, her attention seemed transfixed by the edge of the bandage just visible beneath the collar of his shirt and unconsciously, her own fingers began to play with the bandage now on her own neck.  "You think that's why your chip didn't go off?  Because I specifically chose to save you?"

Finally, she was making sense.  He knew where her head was now, and in spite of her earlier protestations, it wasn't on the plan.  Spike's head tilted, his tongue running along his teeth as he contemplated how he should answer.  Should he remind her that it had taken her nearly an hour after Daymon had left to even think about covering up the bite mark?  Or maybe he should tell her that, even after everything that had happened over the past two days---the potion, the fight, the fever, her saving him---she still glowed as if from some inner light?  "Think the answer to that one's fairly obvious," he finally replied.  "My bite didn't hurt you.  No hurt, no headache.  Simple as that."

Buffy finally met his gaze, and Spike was surprised by the darkness he found there.  "But _why_ didn't it hurt me?"  The distress in her voice echoed in the room, beckoning the vampire for his aid.  This is just eating her up, he thought sadly.  "Well, let's look at this logically," he mused.  "I wasn't exactly your first vamp, now was I?"

"No…"

"And did it hurt with the poofter?"  No way was Spike going to say the name; didn't want to break the spell.

"That was different…"  But he could tell that even she didn't really believe that either.

"And then there was good ol' Drac."

She stiffened.  "Totally not responsible for that one.  He had that whole thrall thing going."

"Yeah, that's Brood Boy's specialty.  Question is, did it hurt?"

There was a long pause as she remembered her encounter with the Dark Prince, and Spike noted with satisfaction the tiny wrinkle in her nose.  Not all peaches and cream, he thought.  Good.  "Yes, I think it did," Buffy finally admitted.  "Parts of that night are still blurry, like I wasn't really there, so I can't say for sure about the whole thing, but yeah, definitely in the beginning."  She glanced away.  "That still doesn't answer my question."

"Yes, it does, Slayer."  No way was he going to let her run away from it now, not when she was so close to finally admitting the truth.  

Whether they acknowledged them or not, the words hung between them, palpable in the cooling air.  _It makes you mine…_They still smoldered, scarlet embers in Buffy's head that threatened to flare up in rebellion against her common sense, rekindling the desire she'd been struggling to control ever since that damn dream.  So he's sexy, she argued silently.  A leather jacket can make just about anybody look good.  Except it wasn't the coat and she knew it…

The short knock at the door shattered their fragile truce, and Buffy straightened up, all thoughts of whys and sex and Spike shuttling to the back of her brain as the plan came rushing forward.  "It's showtime," she said firmly, her jaw jutting out as her body automatically steeled itself for battle.  

In the chair, the blond vampire ducked his eyes so that she couldn't see the hope that flickered in their depths.  Any time now, luv, he thought.  Any time…

*************

The streets of Sunnydale were nearly deserted as Dawn and Xander strolled down the sidewalk.  In spite of the clear sky, the brisk air meant the teenager was huddled in her light jacket, hands thrust deep into her pockets. 

"…and so Robin, she told Mike that he was a big douche baby, which only made him madder, so---."  Dawn's seemingly endless saga of the trials and tribulations of a junior high student were cut short by a very loud sneeze.

"Gesundheit," said Xander.  "You're not coming down with anything, are you, Dawnster?"

"No," she replied.  "Just a little cold."  She hugged her coat even closer.

"Here."  Shrugging the brown mac from his shoulders, Xander slipped it over the teenager's, who snuggled into it gratefully.

"Aren't you going to get cold?"  Dawn asked, stuffing her hands in the pockets.

"Nope.  Got a tiny little motor inside me, keeps me all toasty warm."

"What's this?"  The cellophane crackled as she pulled it out of the jacket.  "Giles let you keep one?"

Reaching over, Xander plucked the cigar from the young girl's fingers.  "Oh, sure," he answered.  "It's not like he needed---."  He caught himself just in time.  "---all of them."

Dawn's face brightened.  "Can we smoke it?"

"I think not, oh ye of the minority under-age."  He grinned.  "But since I am very much a major, I do believe I'll give it a go."  Ripping the plastic off, Xander popped the cigar into his mouth.  "I don't suppose you've got a match?"

"Ummm, no."  A giggle escaped her lips, followed quickly by another.

"What?"  He reached up, touched his face, trying to figure out what so funny, only to set Dawn off into more laughter.  "Glad to hear you happy, but do you care to share in the source of your merriment?"

"Your fingers," she sputtered.  "And…your face…"  Her laughter was starting to drift down the street as it grew louder, but she seemed oblivious to it.

Glancing down at his hands, Xander saw the black streaks on the fingers that had been touching the cigar.  "Oh, just great," he muttered.  To Dawn, he said, "It's on my face, too, isn't it?"

She nodded wordlessly, still smiling, and pulled out a compact from her inside pocket.  "Well, that's twenty bucks I'll never see again," Xander complained once he saw his reflection.  On the teenager's quizzical look, he added, "Anya and I had a bet that I wouldn't look stupid if I tried to smoke it."

"Oh."  She was about to make a comment about how Groucho Marx-ian he appeared when a low growl from behind them caused the pair to stiffen.  "Xander?" she said in a small voice.  "Please tell me that was your stomach."

"Unless it's floating above our heads behind us, Dawn, I'm going to have to disappoint you on this one."  Very slowly, he turned around.

On the sidewalk in front of him, the Hound crouched on its hindquarters, effectively blocking the way.  Its tiny eyes glowed crimson in the streetlights, and Xander audibly swallowed.  He slid over so that his body shielded Dawn's, not that it would take more than a second to get past him should the demon dog choose to attack anyway, but he was at least going to make the effort.

"I wish Buffy was here," the teenager whispered, her eyes wide.

The shadows behind the Hound seemed to solidify, grow stronger, paler, until the form of a tall woman stepped forward, stopping at the dog's side.  "Perhaps I can help you with that," Celie offered.

To be continued in Part 12…


	2. Escape

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Buffy & Spike plan their escape, while Xander has come face-to-face with Celie and the Hound.

*************

Her nails dug into his arm, and in spite of his numbing fear, Xander winced.  In an attempt to loosen Dawn's grip, he rolled his arm in the socket, his brown eyes never leaving the woman and dog before him.

She stepped forward and he was struck by the sheer size of her.  Holy Wonder o' Woman, he marvelled.  Wouldn't that be a treat to find wrapped under the Christmas tree.

"You are the warrior," she stated in a curiously accented deep voice.  "You are her friend."

"What's she talking about?"  Dawn hissed in Xander's ear.

"I don't know," he sing-songed under his breath.  Louder, he piped, "What're you talking about?"

"The Slayer," she replied.  "You fought with her in the alley behind the store that sells magic."

At the mention of her sister, Dawn jumped forward.  "What about Buffy?  Is something wrong?  Is she hurt?"  For a moment, she had forgotten the Hound, but he had not forgotten his duty.  His growl grew louder as the teenager approached and she suddenly froze, all too aware of the dripping muzzle that was now only a few feet away.

Slowly, deliberately, Xander stepped forward and grasped Dawn's arm, guiding her backwards and away from the dog.  The Hound quieted, but its ears remained pricked, its haunches tensed in case of attack.  "The child is rash," Celie commented.

"I'm not a child!  Why does everyone keep saying that?"  Safely tucked behind Xander again, Dawn seemed to have regained her confidence and her elfin features were contorted in anger.

"You obviously want something."  Although his voice was steady, Xander was fighting to stay calm.  The Wicked Witch music from the Wizard of Oz kept going through his head, and he had to squelch the urge to cackle and say, "I'll get you, my pretty!  And your little dog, too!"  

Her black gaze swept over him and the young man unconsciously pulled himself straighter.  "I've come to offer you a transaction," she finally said.  "You and your friends."

"Ah, this must be the ransom part of the abduction," Xander nodded.  "At last, we're finally getting somewhere."

"Ransom?"  Dawn's voice was shrill.  "You kidnapped my sister?"

Celie frowned.  "The Chosen One has a sister?"

"Yeah, and I am so going to kick your ass!"

Xander turned to face the teenager.  "Dawnie," he cautioned firmly.  "Don't.  Let me take care of this."  

"I come not for ransom but to offer you a trade," Celie explained.

"You give us Buffy and we give you…what?  A year's supply of eye of newt?"

"I want the vampire."

There was a long pause as confusion colored Xander's face.  "Did I miss a chapter or something?  You got Spike when your guys snatched Buffy."

"Yes.  And no."

"They got Spike, too?"  Dawn's voice was incredulous.  "How much more were you guys keeping from me?"

"There isn't much time," Celie said.  "The Slayer will be removed sometime tomorrow.  If you wish to have her back, you must decide now."

Xander crossed his arms over his chest.  "Decide what?  You haven't given me the options yet."

Celie sighed.  The boy was proving to be quite exasperating.  Perhaps she should've had the Hound find the witches instead… "I help you get the Slayer, you let me have the vampire."

"And what exactly do you need me for?  You didn't seem to have any problems getting Buff the first time around."

"You will be able to approach more easily than I.  Daymon's men are attuned against most of my magics.  And you have skills that will prove very useful in the event of a battle against them."  She took a step closer, her voice growing melodic.  "I can make it possible for you to save your friend.  Does that not interest you?"

His brown eyes narrowed.  There was a catch here someplace, he just knew it.  Follow the witch, get Buffy, save the day, and all it would cost was a certain peroxidized vamp with a bad attitude?  It just sounded too good to be true.  "My friends won't be back 'til morning.  What say we meet up at the Magic Box around nine-ish, you leave poochie at home---."

"There is no time for that," Celie interrupted.  "Choose."

"Xander."  Dawn's eyes were wide as he turned to look at her.  "You're not going to let anything happen to Buffy, are you?"

Taking a deep breath, the young man squared his chest and faced the Hound and its caretaker again.  "Deal."

*************

It had been almost a minute since he'd knocked and still all was silent inside the room.  He shifted his bulk, right foot to left, wishing for the thirtieth time that he had a free hand to carry a weapon.  Instead, he was stuck playing lady-in-waiting to the young woman and her vampire because all the maids refused to go into the room after what had happened earlier.

Upon Daymon's orders, two of the newer girls had taken fresh clothing to the guests, accompanied by another of the guards.  They had been surprised to find the man---vampire, he had to remind himself---tied to the chair, and the blonde woman saying, "He refuses to play nicely so he's going to stay there tonight to learn his lesson."  As soon as the maids had entered though, crossing the barrier with the aid of the witch's amulets, the monster's true face had emerged, all ridges and fangs, taunting and teasing the girls until they had run from the room in tears.  No amount of coaxing could convince them the demon was harmless as long as he was bound, so now, here the guard stood, a stack of towels in one hand and a fruit basket dangling from the other.

He was about to knock again when an irritated British accent cut through the door.  "Just bloody come in, why don't you?"

The vampire, wearing his human face, was still bound in the chair, and the annoyance in his blue eyes was more than obvious.  "Took you long enough," he groused.  "She's been in there singing ABBA songs for the last half hour.  If I hear Dancing Queen one more time---."  He cut himself off, groaning as the slightly off-pitch, too loud strains of Mamma Mia came filtering from the bathroom.  

The guard edged his way into the room.  Although an unpleasant being, the blond vampire was clearly not a threat, as he was certain the monster would have done something---anything---to stop the young woman's singing.

"Was everyone in this place born in a barn or somethin'?  Shut the bleedin' door!"

He found himself obeying the vampire's command as quickly as he would've Daymon's.  Even bound, there was something authoritative about him, a feral presence that was almost impossible to ignore.  He did not pretend to understand the relationship between the demon and the young woman, but somehow, it did not seem so unlikely that one could occur.

"Don't know how she does it," the vampire was complaining.  "You've seen her; she's just a little bitty slip of a thing.  How she can use half a dozen towels for one---."  A crash from the bathroom splintered the air, followed by silence.  "Buffy?" the vampire called out.  The singing had stopped, leaving only the gentle sound of dripping water in its wake.  "Buffy!" he roared, and faster than the guard could blink, the demon's face emerged.  Golden eyes glittered as he glared at the man.  "Don't just stand there!" he barked.  "Go check on her!"

The guard hesitated.  He was alone, unarmed, and should the vampire escape while he aided the young woman, Daymon would not be pleased.  

In the chair, the monster growled.  "If something happens to her because you're afraid to move, I swear I'll rip your eyeballs out and force them down your throat before tearing them from your gut."  His menace had the opposite effect on the guard, however, as the stocky man's eyes widened, frozen in fear.  The vampire's blue gaze narrowed.  "Wouldn't want to be in your shoes when your master finds out the Slayer got hurt because you refused to check on her."

That did the trick.  Dropping the towels on the dresser, the guard scurried to the bathroom door.  "Miss?" he called out as he pushed it open, disappearing inside.

Spike didn't bother suppressing his smile as a loud thud, followed very quickly by the sound of a basket hitting the floor, drifted into the bedroom.  As he watched the door, an apple rolled to the edge of the carpet, coming to rest on the thick pile.  "Buffy?" he called out.

She appeared in the doorway, bending over to scoop the fruit from the floor, giving it a small toss from hand to hand before leaning against the doorjamb to look out at Spike.  "Wow," she said.  "That was just too easy."  Without moving, the Slayer crunched into the apple.

"Doesn't mean we get lazy," Spike reminded her, and shook his bonds.  

Tossing the fruit in the bin, Buffy crossed behind the vampire and began untying him.  "Why do guys always fall for the damsel in distress routine?" she asked nonchalantly, not really expecting an answer.

Spike stood and stretched, his arms reaching overhead as the muscles in his back loosened.  "Don't know a bloke alive who'd pass on the chance to be a hero, 'specially if there's a beautiful girl involved," he answered, and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before bending over to finish his stretch.

Thoughtfully, Buffy watched him, her eyes sweeping down his body before returning to his face.  "What about the undead ones then?" she queried.

His lip curled as he straightened.  "Pretty much applies to them, too."

Her laughter was unexpected.  "Well, that certainly explains a lot," she said, before turning to face the window.  "Now, on to phase two."  Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the amulet the guard had been wearing around his neck, crossing the room at the same time to within a few feet of the curtains.  Her hand stretched out as she inched her way forward, anticipating the barrier, only to find it gone as she touched the window glass.  "It's about time something went right," she commented, slipping the lock and sliding the glass open.  

Spike watched as she leaned into the night air, inhaling deeply.  "We can stop and smell the desert roses once we're out, Slayer," he said.  

She tried ducking her head as she pulled it back in, but the blond vamp caught the blush tinting her cheeks.  For being in the middle of an escape that could go wrong at any moment, she seemed remarkably relaxed, taking the time to joke with him as if he were just another of the Scooby gang, even having her guard down enough to let her occasional embarrassment slip through.  No way would she have been like this prior to her coming to stay at his crypt, but then again, a lot had happened over the past couple days.  

Turning back to the vampire, Buffy said, "Catch," and flicked the amulet with her wrist.

Both of them fully expected the talisman to pass through the barrier; neither foresaw the amulet bouncing back and striking the Slayer in the cheek.

"Ow!" Buffy exclaimed, as she stooped to pick it up off the floor.

"Doesn't seem to work unless it's being held," commented Spike.

"Well, duh.  Question is, how do we get both of us through at the same time?"

Both of them knew the answer to that one, but Buffy seemed hesitant to admit it out loud.  Finally, the blond vamp rolled his eyes and held out his arms.  "Well, c'mon then," he said impatiently.

Buffy's eyes widened.  "Excuse me?" she sputtered.

"Only got the one, right?  Means we both have to go through at the same time, and I don't really fancy bein' hauled out a window by a girl, even if she is the Slayer."  He continued to hold the pose as he waited for her to come to him.

"Oh, really?"  She crossed her arms.  "I seem to remember you letting Drusilla drag your ass out of that church when it fell in on you.  Don't even start suggesting---."

"That was different.  I couldn't bleedin' walk then!"  His arms dropped, and his eyes darkened at the sudden opposition.

"You got shot this afternoon!"

"And you seem to be conveniently forgetting how I've managed to get over that."  His voice was rough, his exasperation creeping through as he struggled to keep his composure.  "Not feelin' light-headed, are you?  More than usual, I mean."

"Spike…"  Buffy stepped forward through the barrier.  "We don't have time for this."

"Exactly."  He approached her slowly, stopping when only a few feet separated them.  "Fact is, I'm taller than you and gettin' through that window will be easier for both of us if my legs aren't dragging us down.  So stop pretending that you're all offended and get over here."  

The look that passed between them was electric, his hooded sapphire eyes challenging her hazel ones to defy the truth.  Slowly, her gaze never leaving his, Buffy closed the distance between them.  The amulet still dangled from her hand, gleaming dully in the lamplight, and she waited in silence for the vampire to claim it.  

He didn't take it from her.  Instead, Spike took her hand in his, forcing her fingers to curl around the talisman, then scooped her up so that her curves melded against him.  She lifted one arm around his shoulders to steady herself, forcing her body to press even more firmly to his, and the hand with the amulet nestled against his chest.

"Ready, luv?"

She nodded.  "Let's do it," she said.

*************

As he stood in the window watching the moonlight splay over the desert horizon, the last thing Daymon expected to be seeing was the Slayer climbing gracefully over the far fence with her vampire close at her heels.  His fingers curled into the windowsill, carving half-moons into the soft wood, and his heart sank at the realization that somehow, Buffy Summers had managed to escape his control.  Celie's magic had proven fallible after all.

The pilot answered the phone on the second ring.  "I'll just have one of the girls go back and put her on," he said in response to Daymon's request.  The wait seemed interminable, and the Greek was beginning to wonder if he'd been disconnected when the pilot returned to the line.  "I'm sorry, sir," he said.  "Celie doesn't seem to be onboard at the moment."  Further questioning revealed that neither the witch's belongings nor the Hound were anywhere to be found, and Daymon replaced the receiver in an even blacker mood than when he'd started.  

Somehow, he was right back where he'd started from when he'd first discovered who and what the Chosen One really was.  All those years of searching, only to be spoiled by a headstrong girl with a penchant for vampires, and a witch with some unknown agenda.  He sighed, rubbing his eyes.  The deadline was drawing nigh; the time for being a gentleman about this was over…

To be continued in Part 13…


	3. Into the Frying Pan

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Buffy & Spike have escaped Daymon's hold, while Xander has accepted Celie's deal in order to get Buffy back.

*************

The desert quiet wrapped around her shoulders, sheathing Buffy in its wintry embrace, and she fought to suppress the shivers that radiated through her torso.  The memory of the long-sleeved blouse lying rumpled in the corner of her recent cell/bedroom made her regret her over-developed sense of style, and briefly, she wondered how her traveling companion was managing in the cold.  Since they'd gone over the fence, Spike had been silent; only the crunch of his boots on the loose grit behind her confirmed his presence.

For over an hour now, the pair had been walking parallel to the dirt track leading away from the ranch, the one Spike claimed was the road that had brought them in.  Even though she had no real idea where they were---other than the desert---Buffy hoped that somewhere along the trail they'd find some shred of civilization, some way of contacting Giles maybe, or a way to get back to Sunnydale.  They were making good time; only once had they had to duck out of sight, when a truck laden with Daymon's men had lumbered past.  She'd watched the taillights receding against the horizon with a tightening knot in the pit of her stomach.  What else in her life could possibly go kerplooie now?

"Slayer."  His voice rolled over her spine but in spite of the sensations it created in her, Buffy kept on walking, intent on the landscape in front of her.

His lean fingers wrapped around her upper arm, jerking her to a halt, forcing her head to whip around and see his eyes glittering in the moonlight.  There was no mistaking the concern she saw reflected there, and she found she didn't even have the strength to attempt breaking free as the vampire's gaze swept over her shivering form.  "When were you going to tell me?" he growled.

"I'm f-f-fine," Buffy argued, but the chatter in her teeth contradicted the firmness of her reply.

"For a Popsicle," Spike countered, and began pulling her back in the direction from which they'd come.  "C'mon.  We passed a cave not too long ago."

Although she resented his take-charge attitude, part of the Slayer was relieved that at least she didn't have to continue pretending about the chill that was seeping into her bones.  The unforgiving cold was sapping what little strength she had managed to regain, and in spite of his manhandling, Spike was right.  They needed to find some shelter very soon.

"Don't you dare tell anyone I said this," she started in a small voice, "but sometimes I think we're all screwed."

The blond vampire didn't reply, only glanced at her over his shoulder, loosening his grip on her arm at the same time.  The moon cast long shadows over his cheeks, hiding half his face in darkness while illuminating the other in crystalline brilliance, and she was suddenly struck by the intensity of his features.  For a moment, he seemed a stranger, perhaps some pagan deity resplendent in his human form as he walked among the mortals, and she felt her pulse begin to quicken.  It was only when his lip curled in that mocking style that was so quintessentially Spike did the spell get broken.  "Been telling that to the lot of you for years," he said.  "'Bout time you bloody believed me."

Buffy giggled, an unbidden response that seemed to cut through the desert air, echoing against the knoll that now loomed in front of them, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to deaden the sound.  Maybe it was the encroaching chill, maybe it was her increasing exhaustion.  Whatever it was, for some inexplicable reason, the Slayer felt totally at ease as her unlikely partner led her into the darkened cave.

*************

The trio stood outside the fence, watching the truck grind to a halt before the porch, the man in front of the house a mere outline in the moonlight.  Even from where they stood, they could hear his angry voice barking orders, sending the truck's occupants scuttling away on foot.

Not for the first time that night, Xander wondered just what in the hell he'd gotten himself into.  How many times had they had a go at Buffy for going off half-cocked without back-up?  And here he was, tagging along after the dog-bitch who was hunting her in the first place, pretending to play commando when he was really terrified that he was in way over his head.

So far, the only thing they'd agreed upon was Dawn.  The teenager had been adamant about coming along.  "She's _my_ sister," she'd argued.  But Xander knew, as foolish as his choice was, dragging along a thirteen-year-old would only compound the difficulty in breaking Buffy out and so he'd not fought Celie's decision to cast a forget spell on the young girl before walking her the rest of the way home.  

"It's harmless," the witch had stated.  "She will think she returned on her own and we will not be burdened with trying to protect her from Daymon's men."

He'd waited until they were in the desert before asking about who this Daymon was she kept referring to.  "My employer," she explained.  "He is the one who has your friend."  She'd only shrugged when Xander had asked about his purpose for the Slayer.  "It is not my place to question," she'd said.

"And where does Spike figure into all this?"

She'd darkened at the vampire's name.  "He was for me," she said.  "But Daymon refused my audience so that I could explain.  So now, I must take him for myself."  Her eyes narrowed.  "I find it curious that you would be friends with such a monster.  Why does the Slayer allow him to fight her battles?"

"Whoa there, back up.  First of all, not friends.  No way, no sir, no how.  And secondly, the Slayer does no such thing.  She does very well on her own, thank you very much."

"He was tending her when they were captured."

"He was _protecting_ her from you and Marmaduke back there."

Celie was silent, lost in thought.  "Perhaps she chooses him as an ally because he loves her," she finally commented.

Xander exploded into laughter.  "Loves her?  Boy, do you have it wrong!  Spike's all Big Bad, well, ex-Big Bad, he's more like chip-boy these days.  But he and Buffy are enemies from way back.  There's no chance in hell he's anywhere near being in love with her."

"To be enemies, one requires passion…commitment.  It would be simple to transpose those feeling into something more…romantic."

"You don't know Spike and Buffy," Xander said, shaking his head.  "The last thing in either of their heads is romance."

The witch had no response to this and merely looked at him with those unfathomable eyes.   The rest of their trek had passed in silence, and it was only when they'd reached the perimeter of the ranch did she address him again.  "You are not still troubled from the teleport, are you?"

Xander was glad it was dark enough so that she couldn't see him blush from embarrassment.  "No, I'm fine now," he said, inwardly hoping that she wasn't about to do it again.  After dropping Dawn off, she'd whisked them away from Sunnydale using the same spell she'd escaped from the alley with, and the young construction worker had spent the first five minutes in the desert vomiting in the dust.  "You're not…planning on doing it again, are you?"

Before she could reply, the Hound growled, his head bent low to the earth.  Xander watched as Celie reached out, stroked the beast, murmured in its ear.  She paused, seemingly to wait for a response, then stiffened, her black eyes narrowing as she looked over at the ranch.  By now, the men had disappeared around the back of the house, their low voices becoming indistinguishable in the desert's midnight hum, and young Harris began bouncing on his toes as his nervous energy began to take the better of him.

The dark witch straightened and turned her ebony eyes to her confederate.  "We must re-evaluate our plans," she said, her voice suddenly ice-cold.

"Why?  What's wrong?"

"She's gone."

************

The wall of the cave was rough against her back, its jagged edges imprinting her skin with tiny pockmarks, and Buffy was grateful for the added layer of protection that Spike's shirt gave her.  Before they'd even reached the cave's mouth, he'd stripped it off his back and pressed it into her hands without a word.  She knew that he didn't feel the cold the way she did and so didn't really need the buffer the clothing provided, but something about the unsolicited gesture seemed rooted in genuine worry.  She'd thanked him, a small smile letting him know she meant it, and then realized that it was the first real sign of gratitude she'd shown him since her abduction.

Now, hugging her knees close to her chest, Buffy watched the vampire prowl around the edges of the cave, his boots kicking at an occasional pile of sand, his fingers sporadically reaching out to explore unseen crevices in the stone.  There was very little light within the cavern; the only illumination came from the bits of moonlight that trickled in from the entrance.  Still, for some reason, her Slayer senses had kicked into overdrive, adjusting her eyes to the darkness, attuning her hearing to the nocturnal music that surrounded them.

For the moment, Spike was the center of her concentration.  Without his shirt on, his chest gleamed in the stolen moonlight, sculpting his muscles in lines of porcelain, drawing her gaze down his abdomen.  His scent filled her nostrils, causing her mouth to water in some unknown anticipation, and her arms tightened around her legs, forcing the fabric of his shirt even closer to her face without making it too obvious that she was deliberately inhaling its aroma.  

"Spike, you're making me dizzy.  Come sit down."  Inching her bottom over, Buffy resisted the urge to pat the ground next to her.  Desperate much, Slayer? she asked herself silently.

The vampire stopped where he was, his head tilting as he looked at her through the corner of his azure eyes.  "You should be sleeping, luv.  It's been a long couple of days."

"Well, isn't that a lesson in understatement," she responded, rolling her eyes.  "Let's see, I got stalked by a demon hound---."

"Hey!  I got _mangled_ by that demon hound."

"---got snatched by Mr. Personality---"

"---caught on fire from the bleedin' sun---"

"---almost died from magical fever---"

"---got shot by a wanker who doesn't know when to knock---

"---and risked needing a transfusion to save your ass."  She said this last with a hint of a smile, which she had to consciously refrain from widening as Spike crossed the cave and sat down next to her.  "Too bad Slayers don't get workman's comp."

Absently, he picked at the remaining black polish on his nails.  "You've got a rough gig, bein' all Chosen and everything," he commented.  "Now, much as I enjoy a spot of violence now and again, if I was on your career path, I'd consider chucking it all for somethin' with a better benefits package.  Maybe start a band or somethin'," he joked.

Buffy couldn't help but laugh.  "You'd starve, Spike," she said.  "I've heard you sing."

"Don't need to sing," he smirked.  "Just have to look _goooood_."  He drawled the last word, and left his lips slightly pursed, mocking his own Billy Idol impression.  

As they both chuckled at his silliness, Buffy couldn't help the sense of surprise that crept into her head.  This can't be the same Spike, she thought, Big Bad doesn't crack jokes at his own expense, or offer the shirt off his back to a Slayer, or even care that that same girl might be a little cold.  But he did…and he was…and suddenly, that seemed to make all the difference.

Tentatively, Buffy shifted her weight so that she was leaning ever-so-slightly against the vampire's shoulder, at the same time stretching out her legs so that their length pressed against his.  One hand lowered, came to rest on his jean-clad thigh, and she found herself revelling in the stony strength under her palm.  She glanced up at his face, ready to thank him yet again, only to be stopped by the patch of crimson coloring the bandage on his shoulder.  Her reaction was swift.  "Damn it, Spike, you've gone and opened it up again!"  Twisting around to face the vampire, the Slayer reached out to check his wound.

His iron-grip shot up to grab her wrist, staying the motion.  "It's fine," he said.  "It's not fresh.  That happened while we were out happy trailin'."  Spike paused, his blue eyes riveted on her face.  "Fussin' over Big Bad's goin' to give him the wrong ideas," he added, his voice a mere murmur.

The moment froze as Slayer and vampire regarded each other.  "No," Buffy finally whispered.  "They're the right ideas."  Her admission shattered the resolve she'd been so desperate to control, and the young woman leaned forward, pressing her slightly parted lips against his.  The kiss was gentle, questioning, catching her breath in her throat in spite of its brevity, and when she pulled away, all Buffy could hear was the pounding of her own heart in her ears.

Although his face was immobile, Spike's darkened eyes scanned hers, searching for some shred of doubt.  "No spell this time, Slayer," he said.  

"Don't need one."  

This time, there was no hesitation.  Their lips met…parted…tasted, as Spike's tongue swept through her mouth, his soft exploration a marked contrast to their earlier interrupted romp.  Under her breath, Buffy moaned, pressing herself even closer to his bare chest, while her arms slipped around his neck, guiding him closer.  As her fingers intertwined in the vamp's hair, his kiss slid across her cheek, tasting the salt of her skin, absorbing her heat, until his mouth hovered over her ear.  She was surprised by the sensation of his warm breath on her neck, but the surprise was quickly replaced by delight as he caught her earlobe between his teeth, nibbling at the tender flesh.  

"Spike…" she murmured, shifting her weight so that she was sitting on his lap.  His nibbling intensified, trailing across her collarbone, and he pushed the cotton shirt aside to expose the delicate musculature of her shoulder.

"Too many clothes," he growled.

Buffy chuckled.  "You're the one who gave it to me."

Straightening, Spike held her by the shoulders at arm's length, his sapphire eyes looking her up and down.  "Then maybe I should take it back," he drawled.  His hands dropped to the top button, opening it excruciatingly slow, before burning his way to the second…then the third… 

When an impatient Slayer reached up to hasten the shirt's removal, he swatted her away.  "No help from the peanut gallery.  Been waitin' for this for a long time, luv.  It's goin' to get done right."  As the fabric fell from the Slayer's frame, Spike frowned.  "Hmmm," he said.  "Forgot about that one."

Buffy glanced down at her tank and grinned.  "My turn," she replied, grabbing its hem.  In one liquid motion, the top was over the young woman's head and tossed aside. "Too bad we don't have that sponge now," she teased.

"I've got better," Spike said, and slid his hands up her sides, around her back, behind her shoulders, tilting her backwards until she lay prone on the packed dirt floor.  Placing his fists on either side of her, the vampire hovered over the golden beauty, drinking in the curve of her waist, before lowering his mouth to her breast.

Electricity shot through her torso, and Buffy arched her back, silently begging him for more.  As his mouth etched a path along the Slayer's navel, his lean fingers slipped under the waistband of her pants, undoing the button, sliding down the zipper.  She squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip.  Every inch of her felt on fire, nerve endings all akimbo, and she pulled him even closer.  

There was no helping the groans that escaped her now; her body was a living flame under his expert touch, and the only thing she could do was go along for the ride.  Her fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him closer…deeper…daring him to delve even further.

For a brief moment, Spike wondered how exactly Mr. Whitebread Finn had managed being Buffy's lover for as long as he had.  Her Slayer strength was riveting the vampire in place; there was no way soldier boy could've survived this, Spike thought.  She would've snapped him in two if she'd used even half the power she was using now.

For Buffy, there was no cave, just Spike's tongue…his teeth…this was her world, building to a crescendo of color and lights, erasing all thought other than here…and now…

Shockwaves of pleasure erupted through her body, then, slowly, dissipated.  Buffy's muscles relaxed, turning to lead and sinking into the ground, while releasing Spike from his position between her legs.  She sighed, stretched, felt him climb up her body, only opening her hazel eyes to look at him once she knew he was directly over her.  

There was no mistaking the smug satisfaction in those azure depths.  "I told you," he said.

In spite of the heaviness of her limbs, Buffy lifted her right hand to touch the vampire's jaw, stroke his bottom lip.  "Told me what?" she asked, barely able the articulate the words.

Spike's own hand reached up to caress her face, touch the golden curls laying dishevelled around her, before bending down to brush a light kiss over her lips.  "Mine," he whispered.

Buffy didn't respond.  Instead, her eyes searched his face, poring over the familiar scar, the unimaginably perfect cheekbones, the sensuous mouth.  So intent was her scrutiny, she didn't even hear their approach until Spike's head had jerked up to look past her, deeper into the cave.

"Shit," he muttered.  "Out of the frying pan…"

The Slayer twisted around to see what the vamp was referring to.  There, in the black recesses of the cavern, stood a dozen armed demons, all focused on the pair on the ground.  Buffy groaned.  "And into the fire…"

To be continued in Part 14…


	4. Caves

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Buffy & Spike sought refuge in a cave, only to be captured yet again.  Meanwhile, Celie has learned that Buffy & Spike are gone…

*************

"I still say we could take 'em," the vampire grumbled.

At his side, a barefoot Buffy gritted her teeth.  "Spike.  They have.  My pants."  As the rapier of the demon behind her brushed against the hem of her shirt, she did a quick double-step, scooting out of its way.

"And I'm tellin' you, that works to our advantage."  He ducked his head, lowering his voice conspiratorially.  "You give 'em a little flash, distract them, and I go in and knock 'em about 'til we get our opening to run for it."

Her head swivelled to stare at the vamp, her hazel eyes wide.  "OK, first of all, ewwww," she said.  "Second, flying kicks, no underwear, not my style.  And third, did I mention ewww?"  Buffy pulled the shirt closer around her middle.  "And, anyway, if these are Daymon's guys, why are they taking us deeper into the cave?"

Spike watched the three demons marching ahead of them, the torches in their horned hands revealing little but the narrow passage before them.  "First time, we got snatched by humans.  I think this is a whole new ballgame."

The Slayer sighed.  "Great.  On the one hand, we got the Sharks wanting to whisk us away to god-knows-where for god-knows-what, and on the other, we got the Jets leading us into the pit of hell.  If these guys start dancing and snapping their fingers, I swear I'm going to blow."

"That a promise?"  

Buffy glared at him.  "This is _so_ not the right time for this conversation."

Spike shrugged.  To be honest, she could do very little now to destroy his good spirits.  Yes, it was unfortunate they were interrupted, but the vampire had little doubt that they would resume where they left off at the very first opportunity.

As they walked along in silence, it became evident quite quickly that the demons' lights were not the only source of illumination.  The walls of the cave began to gleam with some phosphorescent inner glow, widening to allow the group more room, while the grit that had covered the ground disappeared, revealing a smooth stone finish.  The occasional door began to appear along the passage, and the whole thing began to smell of domesticity, even by Buffy's standards.

In front of her, the demons finally stopped, standing back while one stepped forward to push open a low door.  He looked back at the captives, his violet eyes nearly invisible under the heavily horned brow, and barked a few short words.

Glancing up at her companion, Buffy said, "Please tell you got some of that."  

"Not specifically," replied Spike, "but somethin' tells me he wants us to go in there."  Tilting his head to peer into the dark chasm, his lips spread into a smile.  "If it makes you feel better, Slayer, it's not a torture chamber.  Just looks like a regular bedroom.  A rather posh bedroom."  He glanced back at her.  "With an enormous bed."

She ignored his smirk.  "Well, I suppose it can't be any worse than before," she said.  "Unless these guys refuse to give me back my pants."

She should've expected his response.  "Who needs pants?"

"Gutter.  Out of it."  With one last look behind her, the Slayer stepped forward and crossed the threshold into the darkness, the blond vampire at her heels.

*************

For some reason, the smoke from the fire wasn't filling the cave.  Xander didn't know if it was because of something magical that the witch had done, or just some geological stroke of luck that was keeping them from getting asphyxiated, but either way, he wasn't arguing with it.  The desert was freezing, and this was the first moment of comfort he'd had since they'd arrived.

The dark witch had been mostly silent since they'd left the ranch.  Hanging back, Xander had just watched as she'd seemed to speak with the Hound, then followed along as it loped off into the desert.  It had brought them to the mouth of this cave and was currently parked outside, too big to enter.  

"We'll rest here," she'd said in a tone of voice that meant no arguing.

As tired as he was, Xander was too curious about the witch's motives to turn his brain off enough to sleep.  "You know," he started, "I don't even know your name.  If we're going to be all Starsky and Hutch, I should know what to call you.  Unless you want to be Starsky.  Or Hutch, I'm not picky."

Her eyes were black pools in the firelight.  "Celandia," she finally answered.  "You may call me Celie."

He nodded.  "I'm Xander."  The long uncomfortable silence that followed was only broken by the crackle of the fire.  "So…you're a witch.  My best friend is a witch, maybe you know her.  Willow Rosenberg?"  He waited for a response, but with none forthcoming, he barrelled on.  "'Course, you're not from around here so probably not.  Her girlfriend's a witch, too, but you probably don't know her either because of the whole not being from around here thing…"  His voice trailed off as he realized he was rambling and hoped that he hadn't annoyed her to the point where she'd do something crazy like the teleport thing again.

"I make you uncomfortable."

"Oh god yes," he blurted, then straightened, his brown eyes wide.  "No!  I mean, no, I always talk this much.  Really."  Silently, Xander kicked himself.  Way to be smooth, he thought.  She's going to feed you to that dog yet.  "So…" he said.  "What's the new plan?"

Celie stared into the fire.  "We rest for now and in the morning, you go into the cave and bring them back."

"That's it?  That's the brilliant plan?"  He waggled his fingers, pretending to cast a spell.  "What about the hocus pocus, abracadabra, we're there?  How come I get to go in by myself?"

She didn't seem to want to reply.  "My magic is unsure here," she finally said.  "It's taking my entire concentration just to control the fire and I'm afraid that if I were to go with you, I would be powerless.  No, it's better this way.  The Hound and I will ensure no one prevents us from getting the Slayer and the vampire out."

Xander glanced back at the dark shadow of the Hound looming at the cave's entrance.  Just who exactly was she trying to prevent from running here?  All of a sudden, the fear that he'd made a huge mistake in agreeing to this deal overwhelmed him.  God, Buffy, he thought.  I promise I will do everything I can to make sure this turns out all right.

*************

The door had not been shut for thirty seconds before Spike came up behind her, put his hands on her waist, and bent down to kiss her neck.  Although Buffy's first instinct was to close her eyes and tilt her head to allow his cool lips access, after the initial contact, she stiffened and pulled away.  "Don't," she said, and began poking around the room.

Spike stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching the young woman look under the bed, pull open the drawers of the nightstand, even peer into the adjoining room.  "If you're worried about getting interrupted again, luv, I think all the little beasties are outside.  Well, except for this one, of course."  Tilting his head, the vampire's lips curled in a smile.

She refused to meet his eyes.  "Is it possible you could be more disgusting?" she growled.  "In case you haven't noticed, we're prisoners.  Again.  And I don't know about you, but I just want to get out of here, get home, and forget everything over the past few days ever happened."

"Everything?"  He waited for a response, any sign of recognition from her, but was met with stony silence.  The vampire's jaw clicked shut.  "Right," he said, harsher than he wanted but indicative of his sudden downshift in mood.  "So we're back to disgusting now.  Well, thanks for letting me know where things stand.  Slayer gets off and Big Bad gets booted.  Nice to know some things never change."

As Spike tried to walk past her, Buffy grabbed his arm.  "That's not what I---."

He yanked himself away.  "Sod off," he snarled and stormed into the adjoining room, slamming the door shut behind him.

She stared at the closed door, her mouth hanging open.  What the hell had just happened here?  OK, so maybe she hadn't been entirely clear, but didn't he realize that now was not the right time to be thinking about sex?  Just looking at him made her mouth water, and if she was going to figure out how to get them out of this jam, she needed her head clear, which meant no hanky-panky.  Why didn't he get that?

"Spike!" she called out.  The sound of running water filtered into the room, and Buffy frowned.  Shit.  He was ignoring her.  "Spike!" she yelled, this time a little bit louder.  "Don't make me come in there!"  Oh god, she thought.  Now I sound like Mom.

A gentle rap behind her diverted Buffy's attention and she turned just in time to see a white head poke its way around the door.  "Knock, knock," a woman's voice called.  "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?  I heard yelling."

"No, everything's---."  Buffy stopped, crossing her arms across her chest.  Why was she trying to explain anything?  

The new arrival floated inside and it was all the Slayer could do not to stare.  Everything about the woman was white---long white hair, super-pale skin, an ivory hooded caftan that trailed along the floor behind her.  Even her eyes were such a pale blue, they seemed ghostly.  "I'm so sorry," she was saying.  "I meant to be here when they brought you in.  You haven't been waiting long, have you?"

"Noooooo," Buffy replied, taken aback.  There was an ease, a friendliness, to this woman that one wouldn't expect from a would-be kidnapper.

"You look familiar to me," the woman said quizzically, a tiny line between her thin white brows as she appraised Buffy.  "Have we met before?"

"I don't think so."

"You haven't come wandering through here before, have you?  I know I know you from somewhere."

Buffy shook her head.  "Considering I don't even know where here is, I'm going to say…no.  Unless this is Sunnydale---."

The woman brightened.  "Buffy Summers!" she exclaimed.  "The vampire slayer!  Am I right?"

"So much for secret identities," Buffy muttered.  Louder, she asked, "How'd you know that?"

The woman's smile was genuine.  "It wouldn't be very smart not to know who the local demon hunters are, now would it?"  Entering the rest of the way into the room, Buffy's guest settled herself down on the edge of the bed.  "I don't get many celebrities through here."

"I'm not---," and then it dawned on the Slayer, her hazel eyes widening.  "You're a demon."

"Oh god, where's my head?  I haven't even introduced myself."  She held out her hand.  "I'm Cortina."

"Hi."  The young woman's response was automatic, but she stopped herself short, frowning.  "Wait.  Cortina?  You're not real."

Cortina laughed.  "I've gotta remember to give Harvey a bonus," she chuckled.  "Honey, when you're a demon who wants to have a little privacy, it pays to have a good PR guy."

Behind Buffy, the bathroom door opened and Spike stepped out to lean against the jamb, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.  He cocked his eyebrow at the sight of the new arrival.  "Well, well, well, what have we here?"

The glance over her shoulder turned into a long admiring stare.  "Mmmmm, aren't you yummy…" Cortina commented.  Turning back to Buffy, she said, "If that's his shirt you're wearing, hon, my deepest apologies my guys found you so soon."

Spike laughed, a deep smile creasing his face.  "Nice to know _someone_ appreciates my charms."

"I had a vampire for a boyfriend once.  Not the brightest bulb in the pack, but an absolute animal in bed---."

"Spike's not my boyfriend!" exploded Buffy.

"Oh."  Genuine confusion clouded Cortina's face.  "I thought…Wait a sec, I don't get it.  You've got his smell all over you and he's just dripping in your scent."  She turned to Spike.  "And that's your mark, isn't it?" the demon asked, gesturing to Buffy's neck.

The vampire shrugged.  "She's a little thick sometimes."

Standing, Cortina smiled.  "Maybe I should let you two just sort all this on your own.  I just popped in to make sure you weren't a threat or anything."  She stopped, her eyes widening.  "You're not, right?  I hope you didn't come here to kill me, 'cause I'm really not in the mood to have to get rid of you."

"No."  The encounter was making Buffy's head whirl.  Cortina looked and acted like a human---even a very nice and funny human---yet she freely admitted to being a demon.  For some reason, she even showed some signs of admiration for the Slayer.  What would Giles do with this one? she wondered.  "We were just…getting out of the cold," she added.

Mopping fake sweat from her brow, Cortina sighed in relief.  "That's what I figured.  Listen, you two get some sleep, take a shower.  There's a gorgeous underground stream just down a bit if you're in the mood for something a little more exotic.  Once the sun goes down, I'll have one of my guys lead you out to where you can call your friends in Sunnydale."

"Gee, thanks," said Buffy.  "That's really…nice of you, but…"  She plucked at the hem of her shirt.

"Clothes, of course!  Not a problem."  Opening the door, Cortina smiled back at the Slayer, her blue eyes dancing.  "But I think you'll have more fun without them."  She waggled her fingers at Spike.  "G'night."

"I like her," he said, once they were alone again.  "Refreshin' to meet a smart bird for a change."

"I'm just glad I don't have to worry about yet another bad guy," moaned Buffy as she flopped down onto the bed.  "I haven't been this tired since Xander's Mel Brooks marathon."

"Right.  Well, you should get some sleep then."

Propping herself up on her elbows, the young Slayer frowned as the vampire strode across the room.  Stop him! her mind screamed.  Make him understand what you meant.  "Spike…" she started.

He froze, his hand on the doorknob, his blue eyes averted.  "What?"  His voice was clipped, cold, his anger just barely in check.

"…Don't you think…Cortina seems nice?"  Inwardly, she groaned.  Oh yeah, that would make him stay.

"Most Vrolek demons are, Slayer."  He paused, his jaw clicking.  "But since that doesn't fall into your pretty little definition about what a demon really is, you wouldn't know that, now would you."

Her temper flared.  "I just said she was nice!"

"Well, bully for you," he snarked, finally meeting her hazel gaze.  "Think your Slayer head is going to explode from having to deal with that little tidbit?  'Cause that might be fun to stick around and watch."

She jumped up from the bed.  "Is it so hard to actually listen to what I'm saying for a change?  Here I am, trying to have a calm and rational conversation, and you're trying to turn it into Bitchfest 2000."

"Buffy, your real problem is that I _do_ listen you."  There was no mistaking the control---in his voice, in his tightly wound body---and his knuckles were white on the doorknob.  "I've heard every single 'evil,' every single 'disgusting,' and every single 'thing.'  For some reason, I thought I could change the song, but you've made it abundantly clear that that's not going to happen.  So, this Big Bad's going off to find our Vrolek hostess, see if she's got anything remotely alcoholic to get pissed with, and try his damnedest to forget for just a little while that he's managed to fall in love with the Slayer."  Yanking the door open, Spike was through it and gone before Buffy could blink.

When she did, it was slow and deliberate, as if the act of closing and opening her eyes would somehow rewind the clock.  Had he really just said what she'd thought he'd said?  It wasn't possible; it was Spike, of all people.  All along, she'd figured it as a purely physical thing; the blond vampire had certainly never made any bones about sharing his attraction to her.  But this…

…Spike was in love with her?

To be continued in Part 15…


	5. The Naked Truth

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Buffy & Spike are seeking temporary refuge with the demon Cortina, with Xander and Celie not too far behind them.  

*************

She was waiting for them as they pushed open the door, letting the bright morning sunlight stream inside the dim shop.  "Where have you been?" Anya demanded shrilly.  "Is Xander with you?  Did you find Buffy?"

Giles blinked against his employee's onslaught and hesitated, allowing Willow and Tara to slip past him into the store.  "And good morning to you too, Anya," he said, shutting the door gently behind him.  

"No, it's not a good morning, Giles," she barked, following right on his heels as he walked to the counter.  "Xander didn't come home after dropping off Dawn yesterday.  I _really_ need for you to tell me he was with you last night and that right now, he's back at the apartment sleeping it off."        

"No, I'm sorry, I haven't seen him since we left."  The Watcher frowned, glancing at the witches before continuing.  "Did you see if Dawn got home all right?"

"Well, no," Anya admitted.  "Dawn's got her own family to worry about her.  I spent the night worried sick about Xander."

Willow crossed to the telephone.  "I'll call the Summers' house."

"Did you at least find Buffy?"

The ex-demon's question seemed to fluster the trio, and Willow turned her back as she dialed, hiding the faint blush on her cheeks.  "The spell worked," Giles replied.  "We've got coordinates on the map of the desert for where she was at that point."

"So?  You just left her there?  Are you crazy?"  Anya's voice was getting higher and louder with each question, the worry lines between her brows deepening.

"We weren't exactly…prepared for a midnight hike."  Taking off his glasses, Rupert seemed intent on cleaning the lenses, avoiding the young woman's eyes.

Anya looked over at Tara.  "Giles got a little scared," the blonde witch said in a low voice.

"I did not!" the Watcher said vehemently.  He took a deep breath and added more calmly, "It was dark, and we didn't have any tools."  Both girls just looked at him.  "I wasn't scared," he repeated.

"So what are you doing here?  Get your things and get out there and find her!"

"Anya, did you learn something while we were gone?" asked Giles.  "Did the Tract of Telemus have some answers for us?"

"Oh, I've got answers," the young woman grumbled, crossing to behind the counter.  She pulled out two books and dropped them onto the surface.  "I've got answers coming out of my ears.  Fat lot of good they'll do if you don't get Buffy back in time."

Replacing his glasses, Giles picked up the top book and looked at the spine.  "Why?  What did you find out?"

Anya opened the remaining tome on the counter, turning to a section she'd already marked.  "_That_ is what we've got to worry about," she said, her finger jabbing at an entry at the bottom of the page.

Tara came up to read over the Watcher's shoulder as he scanned the passage.  "This is a ritual that occurred over five hundred years ago," he finally said.  "I really don't see what this has to do with Buffy."

"Neither did I," Anya replied, and took the other book from his hands.  She began flipping the pages, skimming the contents until she found the picture that had jumped out at her the previous evening.  "Not until I found this."  She set the book down in front of him on the counter.

His lungs seemed to stop working as he gazed down at the book.  Behind him, he heard Tara's breath catch in her throat.  "Th-th-that's…Buffy," she murmured.  "How could a picture of Buffy be in there?"

"Telemus was an ancient Greek seer," Giles explained, automatically switching into teacher mode.  "This is a collection of his prophecies."

"As seers go, he's fairly accurate," Anya continued.  "He predicted Menudo."

"What does he say about Buffy?" the older man queried, his muscles finally relaxing so that he could pick up the tract to scan it himself.

"Basically, a very old demon is going to use her for this cleansing ritual and that it's not going to turn out very pretty," Anya stated matter-of-factly.  Behind her, she heard the click of the receiver as Willow replaced the telephone.  "Well?" she asked as the witch came to stand next to her.

"I think we got trouble," the redheaded witch said.  "Dawn's home and all, but she claims that she walked home alone last night."

"That's not true!" Anya's voice started climbing the register again.  "She left with Xander!"

Willow shook her head.  "She says that when she left, you two were all making with the smoochies here at the Magic Box."

The ex-demon whirled to face Giles.  "Now I _know_ something is wrong, because I definitely didn't get any 'smoochies' last night.  We've got to get out there and find Buffy!"

"I agree," he murmured, still absorbed in the text.  "We can't let this ritual happen."

"Is Buffy in danger?" asked Willow.

"Extreme danger," the Watcher replied, as he lowered the book.  "As are all of us, should this cleansing occur."

*************

The bed seemed too big for just her as Buffy rolled over for the umpteenth time that morning.  Sleep had been elusive, as thoughts and memories kept flickering through her head, causing diaphanous dreams of strong lips and a deep British accent.  She couldn't escape his smell, and though he'd not returned to the room after his rather stormy exit, the Slayer could've sworn that he was lying right next to her.  The sense of loss when she'd turn over and not find him there was too crushing even for her to ignore.

It was just supposed to be about sex, something Buffy had finally decided was not only acceptable but desirable, but Spike's proclamation now made that impossible.  If they continued the physical part of their relationship, he would expect some sort of emotional commitment and she didn't know if that was something she was prepared to do at this time.  After the Parker debacle, how could she do that to someone else, even if it was Spike?  Sure, he was all Big Bad and everything, but she'd witnessed firsthand how deep his feelings could run.  He'd been willing to risk it all for Drusilla; if he now loved her, how far would he go for the Slayer?

Her thoughts went back to the vampire's actions over the past few days.  Everything seemed to make sense now---his tender assistance when she was under the fever, his concerted effort not to drain her, even his determination not to allow her to throw herself at him when she'd drunk the dog potion.  Everything he'd done had been for her, and now he thought she still considered him disgusting…

Jumping up from the bed, Buffy grabbed the shirt off the pile of clothes Cortina's men had dropped off during one of her brief naps.  I need to talk to him, she thought.  He needs to know the truth.  If nothing else, she was going to convince him that he'd jumped to the wrong conclusion earlier, that her exhaustion prevented her from speaking her mind clearly, that she didn't in fact think of him as disgusting.  He's going to listen to me this time, she thought grimly.  If I have to beat him senseless to do it…

*************

She heard him before she saw him.  Well, she heard the water, at least.  As Buffy rounded the corner of the cave, she found herself at the edge of a wide stream, a cascade of water trickling down the opposite wall, landing on the stones with a gurgle.  Benches had been carved out of the banks, allowing seats for those who might choose to swim there, and it was on one of those that she first saw his black jeans.  Her hazel eyes scanned the water surface until she saw his platinum head break through near the far wall, and her breath caught in her throat as the rest of him emerged.

The water dripped over his chiseled muscles, running down his back, over the curve of his buttocks, down the back of his thighs, before melding with other droplets still in the stream.  His skin shone under the phosphorescent glow of the walls, a blanket of white velvet that suddenly seemed important for Buffy to touch.  She bit her lip as irrational realization that he didn't bleach himself all over suddenly flashed through her head.

"Hope you're enjoying the show, Slayer," he commented, his words a quiet rumble echoing through the cave, his eyes not bothering to meet hers as he began to wade through the water for his jeans.

She wasn't going to rise to the bait.  "Did you find Cortina?" she asked, doing her best to keep her gaze up…on the vampire's face…away from…temptation…

"If that's your way of asking if I'm drunk, the answer is no.  I forgot alcohol is as deadly to Vrolek demons as sunlight is."  He ran his fingers through his curls, shaking out the excess water, oblivious to the effect his naked form was having on Buffy.

"Well, that explains what she might've had in common with a vampire then," she joked, trying to keep it light.  At Spike's frown, she hurried to add, "The sunlight thing, I meant…"  The young woman bit her lip as the silence between them stretched into awkwardness.  Why was this so hard?  It was just Spike…

"Look, Buffy," the vamp started, then stopped as he watched her unconsciously toss her hair over her shoulder, exposing her bare neck.

It was gone.  Some time since he'd left the room, she'd removed the bandage covering his bite and now bore it in naked testimony for anyone who might see.  His gaze flitted to her face and he realized…she wasn't even aware of what she'd done.  Maybe…

He watched as she stepped into the water, wading around the shallows until she reached his side.  "I came looking for you because I thought we needed to talk," Buffy explained.  "And I mean, talk.  Not snipe, not flirt, and definitely not yell.  Talk."   

He folded his arms across his chest.  "Talkin' goes two ways.  Or is this goin' to be the Buffy-talks-Spike-takes-abuse Hour?"  He was glad to see her color in shame.  A week ago, she would've just taken his comment in stride, shooting back with her own cutdown; now, it looked like she was actually beginning to be aware of her words with him.

"How…?  I don't…"  Both thoughts trailed away and Buffy just stood there flustered.  This would be so much easier if he wasn't naked.  "You're not disgusting," she finally managed.

His scarred eyebrow raised in amusement.  "Already knew that," he drawled.  "Question is, do you?"

The candor of his query stifled her ready response.  Of everyone she knew, Spike was by far the most perceptive.  Maybe it came with being a vampire, but he always seemed to know what was really going on, how she was really feeling, how to get into her head with truths that she found it increasingly difficult to deny.  When she'd been getting ready to find him, she'd stared at herself in the mirror, her gaze fixated on the bandage on her neck, and the realization that she'd let him drink from her---saved him with her own blood and did so voluntarily---set her stomach aflutter.  She cared what happened to him.  There.  She'd admitted it.  Regardless of everything else, there was something between her and the vampire, and it was time for her to stop pretending it didn't exist.

"Maybe I was wrong.  Maybe this is a better time for Action Buffy than Talking Buffy," she said, casually tossing his own words back at him.  His head cocked, his blue eyes locked with hers, and thus was unprepared when, with one liquid motion, Buffy's foot shot out, sweeping the vampire's legs out from under him, sending Spike sprawling in the stream.

"What the bloody fuck was that for!" he sputtered, his anger boiling to the surface then quickly ebbing as her laughter filled his ears.

"You know, I don't usually like the water," she said lightly.  "Ever since the whole drowning and dying thing, it's kind of lost its joy for me."

"Really?" Spike growled as he righted himself onto his hands and knees.  "Sorry to hear that…"  With vampiric speed, his hand shot out and grabbed her ankle, yanking the Slayer toward him so that she landed on her ass with a splash.

"Hey!  Clothed here!"  But there was no real anger in her voice and he could see the lights dancing in her eyes.  She lashed out with her heel, smashing his fingers against her shin, but his grip remained steel on her leg and he dragged her closer, the glint in those blue depths unmistakeable.

"Losing your touch, Slayer," he goaded.  "That didn't even hurt."

"Then maybe I should try harder."  As the vampire pulled her against his chest, her legs scissored around his waist and she flung herself backwards into the water, flipping Spike over her head.  He sailed through the air, splashing into the center of the stream, his blond head disappearing under the surface.

Wiping the water from her eyes, Buffy waited for Spike to reappear, a smile twisting her lips.  After a moment, though, the glee began to fade as the ripples atop the stream smoothed.  "Spike?" she called, and began moving deeper into the water.  OK, vampires don't need to breathe, he's not going to drown, she reassured herself.  Still… "Spike!  This isn't funny!"

Just as she saw a white streak cut through the water, the world seemed to tilt around her and her body flew backwards as Spike tackled the Slayer.  Her face went under and she'd swallowed a lungful of the stream before she could resurface.  With blonde hair hanging over her cheeks, she struggled to her feet, coughing and gasping for air.

All she could hear was the vamp's laughter.  "Now, _that's_ funny."  As her vision cleared, Buffy was greeted by the relaxed smile on Spike's face, and she couldn't help the grin that creased her own.  

"I'm going to have to ask Cortina for more clothes," she commented, wringing the water out of the hem of her shirt.

She could see the sarcasm on his lips as his mouth opened, then closed.  Instead, he stepped forward, the water swirling around his hips, and pushed the gold strands from her forehead.  "You've got to know, I didn't mean for you to find out like that," he said, unable to meet her eyes.  "Was supposed to be romantic and all, with moonlight and such, maybe some leather…"

"God, you are the luckiest girl."  At the sound of Cortina's voice, both Buffy and Spike turned to see the demon standing at the edge of the stream, watching them with wide-eyed forthrightness.  Her frank appraisal of the vampire's nudity was met with an amused chuckle, and she just smiled wider.  "I'm _so_ glad to see you two made up.  I hate it when couples fight."

"Fighting's half the fun," came from Spike.  

Cortina rolled her eyes.  "Vampires," she sighed.

"Tell me about it," Buffy added, and gave the blond vampire a shove, forcing him to lose his balance in the water again.  "We weren't too loud or anything, were we?"

"Oh, god no.  These caves totally suck up all the noise."  Glancing back over her shoulder, the demon added, "Actually, I stopped by because I have a little favor to ask you, Buffy."

"Oh?  What?"  The young woman began wading out of the water, leaving Spike sitting in the shallows.

"I've had a little…situation come up that I'd appreciate your help with."  Cortina stepped back as a dripping Slayer emerged.  "I know it's hard to tear yourself away, but if you could give me just a couple minutes, it would make my life a lot easier."

"Go on," said Spike as he stood up.  "I'll just go back to the room and…dry off."  His hooded gaze sparkled and he made a special show of stretching, which set off another round of giggles in Cortina.

"You ever get tired of him, I'll be more than happy to take him off your hands," the demon whispered in Buffy's ear.

"I heard that…" drifted Spike's voice as they strolled away from the stream.

*************

"So…you're a Vrolek demon," Buffy started as they walked down the corridor.

"Yep.  You're a lot smarter than the last Slayer I met.  She thought I was some albino vampire just because my boyfriend had a thing about bloodsucking."  Cortina shook her head.  "You have no idea how refreshing it is to meet someone who gets the big picture.  I mean, I just get so tired of having to argue with these wannabe demon hunters who keep showing up here, thinking they have to prove something."

"Ummmm, thanks," Buffy muttered, a slight blush high on her cheeks.  "But, confession here.  Spike was the one who actually told me what you were."

The demon gave the young woman's shoulders an affectionate squeeze.  "Yeah, I figured as much.  But that's OK.  You're still miles ahead of that other one in the brains department.  And you've got great taste in boyfriends."

Oh, if you only knew, Buffy thought.  Out loud, she asked in a voice too cheery in the dim cave, "So other than alcohol and sunlight fetishes, what else makes a Vrolek tick?"

"Oh, we're boring," Cortina shrugged.  "Melanin-challenged magic-drains, that's what we are."

"Magic-drains?"

"For some reason, magic just kind of fizzles around us," the white-haired demon explained.  "Don't know why, but not going to argue with it.  It's saved my life more than once."  She stopped in front of a closed door.

Buffy looked down at her still-sodden clothes.  "You don't need me to beat something up, do you?" she asked.  "'Cause my mobility's a little hampered here."

"No, it's nothing like that."  She reached out, grasped the knob.  "My guys brought somebody in, keeps saying he knows you."  The demon pushed the door open.

Buffy's eyes widened.  "Xander…?"

To be continued in Part 16…


	6. Battle Lines

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Xander has found Buffy at Cortina's, while the Scoobies have more information as to what is going to happen to the Slayer.

*************

The last thing he expected when the door opened was to see a soaking wet Slayer.  Stopping in mid-pace, Xander gaped as she turned to the woman standing behind her.

"It's OK," he heard her say.  "He's a friend of mine."

The woman in white looked over at him, frowning.  "He's not another boyfriend, is he?"

"Oh, god no!" Buffy exclaimed.  "Just a regular friend who happens to be a boy."  She turned to face the young man, her head cocked, hands on her hips.  "A very unexpected boy.  Not that I'm not glad to see you or anything, but what the hell are you doing here?"

"It's a rescue mission, of course," he replied.  "And it was going great until her goons showed up and dragged me in here."

Buffy glanced back at Cortina, who just shrugged.  "He was resisting coming quietly.  Dragging was their only option."

"And thank you very much for the difficult moment I'm going to have explaining to Anya how I got these marks on my back," the young man commented.  "I can kiss sex goodbye, that's for sure."

"Xander, be real.  Anya won't stop having sex with you just because of a few scratches.  Now, she might call in one of her vengeance pals…"  To her hostess, she added, "His girlfriend's an ex-vengeance demon."

Cortina nodded knowingly.  "Not usually a good idea to upset them.  My apologies if I've made things hard for you."  Looking back and forth between the friends, she said, "Well, since this is all kosher, I'll just leave you two to talk.  You know how to get back to your room?"

"Yep," said Buffy, and watched as the white demon closed the door behind her.  Once they were alone, she crossed her arms and sighed.  "I'm not sure if I want to know if you came alone, because either way, it was really, really stupid.  Brave and appreciated, but stupid."

Xander just stared at the door, before his brown eyes swept back to his friend.  "You have a room here?"

"Of course," she said.  "Cortina's being super-nice---."

"That's Cortina?!?"  At Buffy's nod, he shook his head.  "I've got to start taking these local legends more seriously."  

"Don't worry, she's not a threat or anything.  Once she found out I wasn't here to kill her---."

"And she's a demon?"  Xander's eyes kept getting wider, and he began pacing the room again.  "Next thing you'll be telling me is that she's offered to help you get out of here."

Buffy bit her lip.  "Well…" 

He flopped down into a nearby chair, shaking his head.  "Buff, you're not seriously believing her, are you?  That must be some serious mojo she's working if you're falling for demon lines now."

"Look, Xander," started the young woman, crossing the room to sit on the bed opposite him.  "You have no idea what I've been through the past couple days.  Cortina is absolutely the least of my worries right now.  What's really important is that we find the guy who kidnapped me in the first place.  Now, I think Spike and I should be able to figure out where he is, but I'm going to need you to go and get Giles and the rest of the gang before we make any sort of attack."

"So Mr. Undead is still around?" asked Xander.  "I would've thought he'd be blowin' in the wind by now."  He grinned, thinking of the friction between his friend and the vampire, and expected Buffy to join in, but found his comment met with silence.  

"Like I said," she finally said, her voice low, her hazel eyes on the floor.  "A lot's happened.  And, believe it or not, I wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for Spike."

The words of the witch came floating back into Xander's head.  _…because he loves her_.  He'd dismissed it out of hand at the time, but now, seeing the gravity of Buffy's expression, he was beginning to think that maybe he'd been too hasty.  Something had obviously gone down and it was something big enough to make his friend shut him out of it completely.  For a while there, he'd been feeling a little guilty about turning the vamp over to Celie.  Now, knowing that Spike had done something to seriously upset Buffy, those feelings were gone.

"I'll ask Cortina to bring you some new clothes when she gets me some," the Slayer was saying.  "Maybe we can hide those marks from Anya for just a little bit longer." 

"Sure," agreed Xander, but his head was elsewhere.  Come sundown, a certain chipped vampire was finally going to get what was coming to him.

*************

At Willow's request, they'd closed the curtains against the sunlight so that she could better concentrate on the markings for the spell.  Carefully, she lit the last of the candles and stood back.

"Close your eyes, Dawnie," she instructed.

Sighing, the teenager at the center of the chalk circle did as she was told.  She still didn't understand what the big fuss was about.  When Giles and the girls had shown up at her door bearing tons of supplies, she'd actually gotten excited for a minute, thinking they were finally going to let her go with them on some Scooby biz.  Instead, all they wanted was for her to be their guinea pig for this spell of Willow's.  Boring.

She had no idea what they were doing, but the sound of Tara's chanting mingled with Willow's.  She was about to comment about two witches for the price of one, when a blinding flash filled her mind's eye, followed almost instantaneously by the sensation of a vise being loosened around her head.  Her blue eyes shot open.

"Buffy!" she screamed.

Giles caught the girl as she bolted to her feet, ready to run for the door.  He grappled with her for a moment, struggling to keep her still, before she seemed to slump in his arms.

"Yep, it was a forget spell," said Willow as she wiped the dust from her hands.

Carrying Dawn over to the couch, the Watcher gently laid her down.  "Dawn?" he asked quietly.  "What do you remember?"

Her lids flickered open.  "Buffy and Spike are gone."

"And Xander?  What about Xander?"  Anya's strident voice chimed in as she stepped forward.

"He left with the dog lady."

"Tell me what happened, Dawn," said Giles.  "You know about Buffy's kidnapping?"

The teenager nodded.  "The woman with the dog said she could help Xander get her back."  Her eyes widened.  "You should've seen this thing, Giles.  It was absolutely massive with these little red eyes…"

"Yes, we know," he murmured as he looked at the others.  "Did you remember to bring the map?"

Willow nodded.  "Everything's out in the car, ready and raring to go."

"Good.  We'll have to---."

"Why does the dog lady want Spike?" interrupted Dawn. 

A frowning Watcher swivelled back to look at the young girl.  "Spike?  What do you mean?"

With all eyes on her, Dawn explained, "That's what she wanted.  She told Xander she'd help him get Buffy if she could have Spike."

"Anya, do you remember reading anything in the books about a vampire with the ritual?" Giles asked, the furrows in his brow growing deeper.

She shook her head.  "Just Buffy."

The four females in the room watched as the older man stood and began pacing, the earpiece of his glasses firmly entrenched between his teeth.  "What is it, Giles?" Willow finally asked.  

"It doesn't fit.  We know she's a witch, so she's not the one who wants the ritual.  But since she was the one who was originally hunting Buffy, we can assume she works for whoever does."  He paused, his mind racing.  "But this issue with wanting Spike complicates things."

Anya sighed.  "Of course there's complications.  It wouldn't be Life with Buffy unless there were," she moaned.

*************

Leaning her head against the stone wall, the Slayer closed her eyes, exhaling long and slow.  Talking with Xander had been difficult, an exercise in avoidance, and she was angry with herself for not telling him the whole story.  Spike deserves better than that, she thought, then froze, her heart quickening as the import of her realization slammed into her gut.  It wasn't possible, not after everything, not so soon…

She whirled as his scent filled her nostrils, and she watched him round the corner of the cave, a stack of clothes in one hand, a small paper bag in the other.   The glow from the walls sent pale shadows dancing across his face, and Buffy felt her palms itch, anticipating the satin of his skin.  When the flutter in her stomach flew to her throat, her hazel eyes went round as saucers.  Damn…

He stopped when he saw her.  "So much for beatin' you back," he said dryly.

"Are the clothes from Cortina?"  She did her best to keep her voice neutral, to keep him from noticing her racing pulse.

Spike nodded.  "Wouldn't want to see her drycleaning bill."  He moved past her to the door of their room.  "Get everything all sorted?"

Buffy held back as he pushed the door open with his hip.  "Xander's here," she said simply.

The vampire stopped, halfway into the room.  "How in hell did the whelp ever find us?" he said incredulous.

"I have no idea."  She felt silly hanging back in the corridor, and mentally shook herself.  You've been here before, she scolded.  Stop being such a baby.  "I didn't think to ask," she added as she stepped inside.

When Spike closed the door behind her, it dawned on Buffy that even without seeing him, she knew exactly what he was doing, where he was situated, how he was standing.  She knew without looking that he was watching her…that he'd slowly dropped the clothing onto the chair by the door…that his blue eyes were roaming over her back…and that he was hard, dripping with desire for her.  This was more than Slayer senses, and she knew it.  What she wondered was…did he?

"Where are Rupert and the witches?"

Without turning to look at him, she began undoing the buttons of her blouse.  "Xander said they were using a locator spell out in the desert to try and find me.  Apparently, some of Daymon's men left a trail back in Sunnydale wide enough for a pack of elephants to follow.  Thank god I have smart friends and stupid enemies."  As casually as she could manage, Buffy slipped the cotton from her shoulders and dropped the wet fabric onto the floor, ignoring Spike's presence behind her.  Her skin broke out into goosebumps as it met the chilled cave air and she scuttled into the bathroom.  "You didn't bring any extra towels, did you?" she called back to him.

His eyes were contemplative when she stepped back into the bedroom, watching her rub the fluffy towel over her flesh.  "What are you doing?" he finally said.  There were no recriminations in his voice, just a low concern shading its timbre, and Buffy hesitated, knowing what he meant but reluctant to go there just yet.

"I'm drying off," she answered.  "If you hadn't noticed, I'm all wrinklies and ridges."  She waggled her fingers in front of her and grinned.  "You go into game face and we'll match," she joked.

As her hands reached for the button on her trousers, Spike closed the distance between them, grabbing her wrist and stopping her disrobing.  "What did Harris say to you?"

"Why do you think he said anything?"  

His gaze softened, and he cocked his head in order to force her to look at him.  "Because you're doin' Gypsy Rose Lee without blinking an eyelash, and as much as I may appreciate it, I'm not so thick that I can't see you're using it to keep me distracted."  Reaching behind him, he grabbed Buffy's top from the pile of clothing and handed it to her.  "Go on and get yourself dressed.  When you feel like talkin', I'll be right over there."  He gestured at the bed.

Tracing the stitching on the fabric, her measured response was hushed.  "It's not so much what Xander said to me, as it is what I didn't say to Xander."  She lifted her chin, and Spike was surprised to see the shame in the hazel orbs.  "I don't know what you're expecting from me---."

"Absolutely nothing."  The vampire's finger ran along the curve of her cheek, down the line of her jaw.  "You really think I was expecting any of this?  If I'd thought for one second that I stood a bleedin' chance in hell with you, you would've known about it a helluva lot sooner, even if it meant chaining you to a wall to make you listen to me."

Buffy grimaced.  "There are better ways to get my attention, Spike."

"Besides," he added, "Rupes would've staked my ass for sure if he thought I was goin' to sully his little Slayer."  

"If it makes you feel any better," she said lightly, "I don't consider myself sullied."

Even Spike couldn't resist her little joke, and his face relaxed into a half-smile.  "I don't expect Harris will react to the news as well as Red and her girlfriend did, anyhow."

Buffy stepped back.  "Willow and Tara know?  How did that happen?"

"Hell if I know," the vampire shrugged.  "And I was there."  His shoulder ducked as he turned on his heel, picked up the bag he'd entered with, and walked to the far side of the bed.  "Don't worry, Slayer.  I won't say a word to the whelp."

All she could see was his back as he perched himself on the edge of the mattress, kicking the sack under the nightstand.  His porcelain shoulders were bowed, weighed by some unknown worries, and his tussled hair was just starting to curl against the nape of his neck.  Slowly, Buffy's hands returned to her waistband.  "You're always putting words in my mouth, and yes, before you say it, sometimes those words belong there."  She began to peel the wet pants off her legs.  "But I think for right now, I'd like it very much if you just shut up for a minute and let me do the talking for a while."

Spike looked over his shoulder, his jaw slightly dropped, to see the Slayer step out of her trousers and climb onto the bed behind him.  As she crawled on hands and knees toward the vampire, her eyes shone, but from what, he had no idea.  "If I thought apologizing for the last three years would make a difference, I'd do it in a heartbeat.  But you know and I know that neither one of us would've done anything differently, so what's the point in saying we're sorry about it?"  She knelt behind him and placed her hands on his upper arms, kneading them gently.  "I'm a firm believer that actions speak louder than words, which is why having to re-orient my world to accommodate a non-evil Spike has been about as easy as drilling my own teeth, and about as much fun, because let's face it, your body count pretty much puts mine to shame."

As he started to turn back to look at her, his mouth opening to refute her accusations, Buffy grabbed his head and straightened it, forcing him to look forward again.  "I said, shut up for a minute."  Her hands returned to his biceps, and slowly began to massage downwards.  "I don't know why, and I don't know how, but you're always managing to be Mr. Insightful.  Most of the time, it's infuriating as hell because I'd like nothing more than to just be able to slide you into my little cubby labelled 'demon' and forget about you, but you just don't make that possible.  Instead, you go and get yourself chipped, start helping the gang, turn into an asset instead of just an ass, and now you say you're in love with me."  She rested her chin on his shoulder, her mouth just inches from his ear.  "You realize then, that any admission I make will be entirely your fault, don't you?" she murmured.  "That if I tell you I'm grateful you're on my side now, or I'm sorry you have to deal with Bitchy Buffy so much, or that every time you walk away from me, it feels like someone's just turned off all the lights, you're completely to blame for it."  Her breath was warm against his neck.  "But my hang-ups about what to say to Xander are my responsibility, and I'm not going to allow you to take on that as well.  I _am_ going to tell him, I want you to know that.  I just haven't figured out how to do it yet without his head exploding."  She chuckled.  "So go ahead.  Insight all that."

He didn't move.  He didn't even look at her.  For a long second, Buffy wished that he was actually alive so she could see his breathing just to confirm he was still with her.  "Don't tell me I've actually made you speechless," she joked, sitting back on her heels.

Very carefully, Spike leaned forward and pulled the paper bag out from underneath the nightstand.  His back blinded her to its contents as she heard him open it and extract something.  When he turned around to face her, his hands were filled with tiny purple buds, their tantalizing fragrance drifting to the Slayer's nose.  "See, the plan was, I got back first so I'd have time to get these out.  Cort's not got much in the way of flowers down here, not that I blame her 'cause the buggers've got a way of dying when they don't get sunlight."  He began dropping them onto the bed, letting them fall through his fingers onto the floor.  "But the good thing is, no nasty thorns to prick delicate Slayer skin."

Picking up one of the diminutive flowers, Buffy rolled it around in her palm, watching the light play with the violet hues.  "I'll say this, Spike," she said, "you're never short of surprising."  

The blond vampire grinned.  "Just part and parcel of the whole Big Bad package," he said.

*************

The grit ground into his forehead as he lay prostrate on the ground, the candles flickering around him, the heavy aroma of incense hanging in the air.  His muscles were stiff, and for a moment, he scolded himself for allowing his body to get so out of shape.  Too much comfortable living, he thought.  Never again.  Once the cleansing was over, it would be a strict regimen of exercise, a proper diet that would keep his form trim and capable until the arrival of his inevitable death.  Until then, though…

Smoke began to fill the small room, and the outlines of the altar before Daymon began to shimmer, fading against the blackness.  A deep hum began to vibrate his eardrums, and he felt the familiar closing around his head as the figure began to thicken…solidify…until it towered in front of him.

"It'sssss been a longggg time, my friend," the demon slithered, its serpentine form undulating in rhythm with its words.

"I am in need of your expertise," Daymon replied.  He raised his head and stared at the sightless being.  "The Chosen One has escaped."

"Ah, yessssss, your cleansssssing.  I sssshould've persuaded you twenty yearsssss ago to renounce thisssss folly."

"You do not exist in this half-state as I do.  I'm neither truly demon nor truly mortal---."

"Or both, if you choose to sssssee it that way."

Rising to his knees, Daymon shook his head.  "I grow weary of the debate, old friend.  If I had not been so impetuous back then, beginning the rite without knowing the full requirements, perhaps it might have been a different story.  But without the chalice, I cannot complete what was started, and now, she's gone.  My men have failed to retrieve her so I'm left with no alternative but to find her myself.  And for this I need your aid."  

The snake-like demon bowed its head.  "The rebirth will be painful," it murmured.

"As will the cleansing, but I am prepared.  I must find the Chosen One in time, and at this point, this is my only means to do so."

"Ssssso be it."  It waited as Daymon returned to his prone position before coiling itself around the altar.  "Let the resurrection begin…"

To be continued in Chapter 17…


	7. Into the Fire

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Buffy and Spike have made up, while the Scoobies are on their way to rescue Buffy.

*************

They stood in a line, staring down at the puncture, none of them really wanting to move.  Finally, Anya broke the silence.

"You at least have a spare, don't you?" she asked, her arms folded across her chest.

"Yes, of course," Giles murmured, her query prompting him into action.  He strode to the trunk of the car.  "At least, I assume I do."

"I told you we shouldn't have taken that shortcut," she continued.  "Shortcuts are never good.  If they were, everyone would just use those instead of the long way and pretty soon the long way wouldn't even exist anymore because the shortcut would be the main route, and then everyone would start looking for an even shorter way---."

"Anya, do shut up," the Watcher interjected.  He pulled the tire out of the trunk and lugged it around to the side of the car, propping it against the door.  Returning to the rear, his head disappeared as he continued to rummage around.

"I've never changed a flat before," said Tara.  "Is it hard?"

"Not when you've got the right tools," came Giles' muffled voice.  He straightened, a frown darkening his blue eyes.  "Which we apparently don't."

"Why?  What's wrong?"  Willow walked over to the older man's side and peered into the trunk.

"I seem to be missing a jack."

"Oh, that's not a problem," the redheaded witch offered.  "Tara and I can use magic to lift the car while you and Anya change the tire."

"Me?  Why do I have to help?  Giles is the one who got the flat."  

He rolled his eyes, annoyance shining within the blue.  "That's all right.  I can do it myself."  Standing back, he watched as Tara and Willow joined hands, their concentration focusing on the vehicle.  There was a long moment of quiet during which nothing happened.  Giles glanced back at the witches.  "Is there a problem?"

Willow looked at her girlfriend, frowning, before turning to face the Watcher.  "Ummmm, kind of.  It's not working."

"What do you mean it's not working?  Just poof it up so we can get out of here."

"I said, shut up, Anya!"  Giles' voice was harder than he intended and he took a deep breath to steady his last remaining nerve.  In a calmer tone, he asked, "What do you mean, it's not working?"

"Hang on."  Scanning the desert ground, Willow picked up a small twig and set it on the hood.  Again, she focused her energy on it, and again…nothing.  She turned worried eyes back to the group.  "It's like something's sucking up all the magical power around here," she explained.  "I can feel the forces going out to move the car, or the stick, but then it's like they get whisked away before they can work."

Giles glanced around at the landscape.  "It must be some geological phenomena with this particular area," he commented.  "It would be interesting to try some experiments later."

"Later," Anya emphasized.  "But what do we do now?"

"We walk."

Three sets of eyes widened.  "W-w-walk?" stuttered Tara.  

Looking up at the setting sun, Rupert said, "The spot where we located Buffy is only six or seven miles from here.  We should make it there just about sunset if we set off now."  He regarded his three companions.  "And the more we dawdle, the darker it will be when we finally arrive."  His words sent them scurrying for their things in the car.  And let's just hope that we get to Buffy before it's too late, came his unspoken worry…

*************

Waking was like battling through a wall of down comforters, pushing one aside to find another---albeit thinner---waiting to bar the way.  As Buffy struggled to return to consciousness, the dreams that had been darkening her mind's eye scuttled away, their specific images fading, leaving behind the sense of kismet that always accompanied her prophetic Slayer visions.  She would not remember these when she awoke fully, however; only the adrenalin coursing through her veins would let her know they'd visited during her sleep.

The first thing she became aware of was the weight curled around her body.  The hair on Spike's arm tickled her side where it lay, and his fingers were sandwiched between her waist and the mattress, gripping her as if she were a life preserver and he was floating at sea.  Without opening her eyes, she smiled.  There was something infinitely comforting about waking up in the arms of a strong man, knowing for those few precious seconds before the real world set in that she didn't have to face it alone, that someone else was there to help bear some of the burden, and she was determined to enjoy it for as long as possible.

Buffy had no idea how long they'd been asleep.  After the vampire had pulled out the flowers, there had been one incredibly long kiss----a kiss that still curled her toes just thinking about it---before Spike had done something she couldn't ever remember seeing him do before.  He'd yawned.

"I'm absolutely knackered," he'd said apologetically.  

In response, Buffy had just pulled him down so that they were spooning on top of the blankets.  "This is nice, too," she'd whispered, and felt his gentle kiss in her hair before drifting off to slumberland.  

Neither one had really moved while they slept, and now, Buffy could feel his solid form pressing against her back, an icy statue bending to fit around her curves, leg to leg, hip to hip.  There was no mistaking the hardness pressing into her back and she couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her throat.  

With extreme care, the young woman lifted the arm from around her waist and slid out of his embrace, twisting herself around so that she could set it down without waking him.  His features were relaxed, the laugh lines around his mouth smoothed away in repose, and it dawned on Buffy that she'd never seen him look so serene as he did right then.  Is this how Drusilla saw him? she wondered.  Or did the crazy vamp drive him to join her in that manic state in which she seemed to exist?  Either way, the Slayer was pleased that, for a few minutes at least, she could give him peace…

As she watched, Spike rolled over onto his back, his arm flinging upward to cover his eyes and forehead, exposing the muscled expanse of his alabaster chest.  Unbidden, Buffy felt her jaws separate, her tongue curling against her top teeth as her mouth watered in anticipation.  OK, safe to admit the truth to herself now.  The vampire was most definitely a hottie.

Her hazel gaze slipped over his form.  The burn on his cheek was almost gone now, only a faint redness indicating that anything had ever been amiss there.  On his shoulder, the arrow wound was healing quickly as well; Spike had removed the bandage some time before his swim, and the stream's waters had cleaned it even further.  Outside of the bite marks on her neck, there were few reminders of their stay in Daymon's hold, and she found herself wishing that she could just let the whole thing slide, get back to Sunnydale and deal with her crises there without having to tie up these loose ends as well.  She sighed.  It wasn't going to happen and she knew it.  Daymon seemed too determined to get her for whatever purpose he had in mind.

On the bed, Spike stirred in his sleep, nudging Buffy back into the present.  Leaning forward, she brushed her lips lightly across his, more a caress than a kiss, focusing her breathing on his skin as her mouth hovered over his jawline.  She inhaled deeply, drinking in the aroma of smoke and leather until it made her head swim, and her eyes closed as a wave of desire swept over her.  What would it take to wake him up? she wondered.  Just how deeply do vampires sleep anyway?

The young woman's tongue darted out, joining her lips as they caressed the line of his neck, dipping into the hollow before his collarbone, snaking along its length, past the mending injury, to stop at the depression at the base of his throat.  If he were a man and breathing, she would've seen the pulse of his heart throbbing there, felt it beat under her tongue.  But this was Spike, and that particular spot lay frozen, inert under her touch.  

Being wary of waking him, Buffy trailed her hand down his sculpted abdomen, stopping only at the waistband of his black jeans.  Her eyes jumped up to his face, and she watched him closely as her nimble fingers undid the button…pulled down the zipper… The vampire lay motionless, still deep in his slumber.  

The Slayer smiled, and pulled her hair back with her free hand so that it wouldn't tickle his stomach as her mouth swept downwards, tasting his skin, stopping just short of his navel.  Time for repositioning, she thought, and shifted her weight so that she was just inches from his hips.

A growl from the head of the bed alerted Buffy to Spike's waking.  His hands crept up and began stroking her hair, combing it down her back and out of her face.  "And you keep sayin' I'm the evil one," he muttered.  "How long were you goin' to let me sleep through this little tongue bath?"

She raised her head, looked up to see him gazing down at her, his eyes darkened.  "I'll stop if you want me to," she offered coyly.

His reply was to tighten his grip on the back of her neck, causing the young woman to giggle.  "Didn't think so," she said, and resumed her position.

Her mouth seared his skin, and he gasped as he felt her nails begin to rake his inner thigh.  The fantasies that had been fuelling Spike's dreams for the past few months vanished on tenuous wings as the reality of Buffy's heat drove them away, devastating their pale imitations with her vibrancy, and the vampire reveled in the gift he felt he'd been bestowed.  She hadn't said the words yet, but her vow to explain it to Xander was more promising than anything else he could hope for at the present.  It didn't seem as if the world could get much better.

He wasn't sure how long he was going to last under her onslaught; he desperately wanted to make it go on forever, but the combination of her tongue, mouth, and hands was already starting to send him over the edge.  "Buffy…" Spike whispered, mustering what resolve he had left.  "Stop…"  His hand loosened its hold on her golden locks, and he edged upwards, away from the seduction of her heat.  

She blinked.  Had he really just asked her to stop?  Sitting up, the emptiness at the pit of her stomach ached, and she turned, bewildered, to meet his sapphire eyes.

He could see right away that she was hurt.  Bollocks, he thought.  She thinks it's her fault.  His hand reached forward, cupped her cheek, his thumb gently stroking the silk of her skin.  "Not like this," he murmured.  

"But you…"  Her voice trailed off, suddenly unable to articulate, and she swallowed hard in an attempt to clear the lump of fear that had settled there.

"We've got all the time in the world for that, luv," the vampire soothed.  "And trust me, I fully intend to enjoy that particular Slayer skill."  He leaned forward, brushing kisses across her eyelids.  "But as gorgeous as this mouth is…"  His teeth caught her bottom lip, tugging it gently, playfully, before letting go and finishing,  "…that's not where I want to be at the moment."

Relief suffused Buffy's breast, followed quickly by awareness of what the vampire was saying.  Her mouth made a silent, "Oh," and the twinkle returned to her hazel eyes.  "Then that means getting rid of these," she said, tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

Spike smiled.  "I'm not the only one in pants, pet."  Grabbing her around the waist, he hooked one finger around the edge of her silk underwear and yanked, ripping the fragile fabric and letting it flutter to the floor, before laying back and pulling her down on top of him.  Buffy couldn't help her grin as he locked her against his chest, using his free hand to push the denim down around his ankles, kicking the jeans off so that they flew across the room.

"Someone's definitely done some recuperating," she joked.  

"It's all about stamina, luv," he responded, before meeting her lips in a bruising kiss.  Tongues entwined…melded, as the passion both had been holding in check released in a blaze, enveloping the pair in their own silent whirlwind, crushing into dust the fears that both had been harboring.  Wrapping her arms around him, pulling him even closer, seemed the most natural thing in the world for the young Slayer; at the moment, she couldn't think of why she had ever doubted it would be any different.

Breaking free from his lips, Buffy lifted herself up onto the heels of her hands so that she could look down into his face as her legs slid open.  His smile was gone; instead, the blue of his eyes had deepened to a stormy sky, locking with hers as his fingers dug into the flesh on her hips.  She needed no guide as she lowered herself down on him.  There was a moment of hesitation as both vampire and Slayer tasted the intoxicating fervor of fusing together, before Buffy started sliding over him in an unhurried rhythm of in and out.

The more he tasted her, the more his hunger for her grew, threatening to unleash the demon and overpower her once and for all.  Spike had lost all sense of where he ended and the Slayer began; he knew only the sensations in his body, the fire laying siege to his skin…

As their tempo quickened, Buffy's back began to glisten from the sheen of sweat evincing her efforts, and she felt small beads of moisture begin to roll around her sides, slicking her stomach and smoothing the friction between them.  Still, she wanted more, and pounded against his hips as her muscles tried to consume him, make him her own.

It began in her pelvis, a low rumble that swelled, radiated up her torso…down the back of her thighs.  She couldn't stop…wouldn't stop…had to engulf him…until her body detonated, a blinding explosion setting her alight, creating an inferno that should've devoured the vampire but instead spurred him further.

Her orgasm sent Spike careening over the precipice.  His roar matched her scream, blending into a single song, and he clutched at her trembling form to try and stave the swell of emotion rising in his throat.  Above him, Buffy slammed down onto his hips, locking him in place, before burying her face in his neck.

They held each other like that as the waves of pleasure ebbed, receding into memory.  Overwhelmed by the scent of her hair, Spike nuzzled the golden strands as his hands slipped up her back.  "God, I love you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Buffy didn't reply, only nestled herself deeper into his embrace.  I can't, she thought.  Not just yet…

*************

As the screams died down, Cortina smiled.  She hadn't meant to be eavesdropping, but when she'd approached the room to remind them of the time, the primal sounds of Spike and Buffy's lovemaking had been enthralling, and she just couldn't tear herself away.  It was so nice to be right about these things.

When the blond demon had spilled his story to her earlier, she hadn't been all that surprised.  Slayers and vampires went back a long way, and sensing the attraction between these particular two had been as simple as opening her eyes.  She did understand his pain, however, and so when she'd suggested he take the flowers back to the room, Cortina was relieved that he didn't recognize their true origins.  Not many knew that the fragrance of the tiny purple buds stripped away falsehoods, acting in its own way as a sort of natural truth serum, and so she knew she was taking a risk by exposing them to it.  But her instincts had prevailed, and their recent gymnastics only proved what Spike had known all along.

She sniffed the air.  Sunset was still a couple hours away; there was no reason to disturb these two just yet.  Let them enjoy these few minutes, she thought, and turned to go back down the hallway.

To be continued in Part 18…


	8. Confessions

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  The Scoobies are still on their way to rescue Buffy, albeit on foot now, while the Slayer, Spike, and Xander are preparing to leave Cortina's.

*************

There was a new scent in the air, familiar but not quite right…power not yet fully realized mingled with innocence both young and old.  It traveled with two others, a perplexing pair of smells born of violence yet steeped in propriety, and together they approached him.  They were still some distance from the Hound, but unless they changed their course, it would only be a matter of time before they arrived.

His caretaker lingered within the cave.  Ever since the man had disappeared into its depths, she'd been engaged in preparations of the magical variety, too busy to notice her charge.  She was obviously absorbed in her duties, her exhaustion seeping from every pore of her skin, but his own needs were becoming more and more vital, the growing hunger in his belly distracting him from his responsibilities.  Whatever it was, he hoped that whatever she was planning would come to fruition soon…

*************

Buffy just sat there, watching him scarf down the food in front of him.  "Hungry much?" she commented.

Through a mouthful of pastry, the young man replied, "Xander starving.  Xander eat."  He reached for the glass of milk at his plate's side and downed it in three long swallows.  "You should have some.  I think your demon friend must have it trucked in from Donut Digs or something."

The Slayer shook her head.  "I already ate."

"And Blood Boy?  He's all set to go, too?"

"Yep.  But I still don't see why you won't just let some of Cortina's guys walk you back to the entrance to get your things.  They promised they wouldn't drag you this time."

"Believe it or not, at this point, I'd rather have Spike as a bodyguard," Xander said.  "At least that way, I know that I'm not going to get hurt without him getting a monster of a headache."

"Well, we'll have to make double-time," Buffy replied.  "I want to get back here so that we still have time to get to Sunnydale before sunrise after Cortina shows us her maps."

Xander sat back in his chair.  "Whoa, back up.  We?  You think it's going to take two of you to help me find my stuff?"

She tilted her head, her hazel eyes annoyed.  "No.  I think if I leave you two alone together for more than five minutes, one of you will say something that only pisses the other one off, and you'll go storming off, and then I'll have to go looking for you, and that just screws up the whole timeline.  You guys most definitely need to be refereed if I'm going to get all of us out of this intact."

As he reached for another pastry, the young man cast his gaze downward, unwilling to meet his friend's face.  "Listen, Buffy," he started, then stopped, unsure how to continue.  She still didn't know about Celie; he'd carefully edited that part out of his narrative.  If she came back with him and Spike, she'd discover that he'd sold the vamp out, and right now, he wasn't sure exactly how she'd take it.

"It's OK," the Slayer was saying.  "I think I know what's bugging you."

His brown eyes lifted, widened.  "You do?"

"Sure," she replied.  "And it's partially my fault because I'm trying to be all uber-Slayer and everything.  I want you to know, I'm not ignoring everything you've done in trying to find me, really.  I know you guys have worked overtime on this one, and with the Glory mess and Mom, I haven't exactly been appreciative girl lately.  I promise, when we get out of this, you will be lauded as Scooby Extraordinaire to all who will listen."  

Her wide smile was genuine, and Xander felt his stomach sink.  "It's OK, Buff.  We understand the pressure you're under."

"Nope, I'm serious," she said.  "As soon as this is all over, we'll have a bash to celebrate Scooby goodness, complete with cake and other sugary substances to overload our systems with."  And hopefully by then, she added silently, I will have been able to tell you guys about me and Spike.

There was no point in arguing with her.  "Sounds good," he said simply, and sank his teeth into the donut.

*************

It had been embarrassing when they'd found him unconscious in the young girl's bathroom.  What was even worse was the fact they'd stolen his amulet in order to escape.  When the orders had been made to send him and his men out in the trucks to search the night, there had been no displeasure apparent in Daymon's face; only the tightness in his voice conveyed his barely controlled anger.  To return without the girl and her vampire had been an extreme failure on the guard's part, and he'd been reluctant to face his master's wrath.  Instead of expressing anger, however, he'd merely barked additional instructions before disappearing in the bowels of the house and it was only now, almost twenty-four hours later, that the men were hearing anything from the Greek.

His stomach lurched in fear as he approached the basement door.  Daymon had specifically requested that the guard who'd been discovered in the Slayer's room be the one who was sent to him, so he knew that now was the time to face his retribution.  He had no idea what it might entail; Daymon was known as a fair but firm employer, so perhaps he might get away with just a demotion among the ranks.  But then again…

"Sir?" he called out.  The cellar of the house was pitch black and he groped blindly for the light switch.  It clicked loudly in the darkness, but no illumination sprang forth as a result.  I must inform housekeeping about that, he thought, as his foot inched out in search of the top stair.

The first thing he noticed was the smell.  At some point, candles had been burning in the nether regions, but now, there was an oiliness permeating the air, a thickness that almost made it difficult to breathe.  Holding his hand over his nose and mouth made it better, but only slightly, and he began taking short, shallow breaths in an attempt to clear his lungs.  

"Sir?"  

This time, there was a response.  "Please, come on down."  

The guard hesitated.  Although there was no mistaking the master's voice, there was a certain sibilance to his speech that seemed somehow foreign.  Perhaps he's had an accident, the man thought, and hope flared in his gut.  This could very well be his opportunity to get back into his good graces.

He took too long to respond, as the distinct sigh floated up from the cellar's depths.  "Are you deaf as well as incompetent?" Daymon asked.  "Must I do everything myself?"

That was all the guard needed to spur him into motion.  As quickly as he dared, he navigated the remaining stairs until his feet came into contact with the packed dirt floor of the basement.  "I'm here as you requested, sir," he said.

"Good."  The voice was nearer, but in spite of the guard's peering into the darkness, he still couldn't make out his master's form.  "I am in need of your assistance."

"Oh, yes, sir."  His pleasure at being able to redeem himself brightened his words and he stepped forward, eager to be of service.  "Whatever I can---."

The words were cut off with a gurgle, followed quickly by the dull thud of his head hitting the floor.  Daymon's slitted eyes surveyed the decapitated body slump lifeless to the dirt, and his wide nostrils flared as the scent of fresh blood began soaking the air.  He had no patience for ineptitude and this soldier obviously needed to find his calling within the organization elsewhere.  

Ignoring the fallen head, Daymon slithered to where the body rested, the blade in his hand hanging loosely at his side.  It had been more than twenty years since he'd tasted a fresh kill, and his forked tongue was salivating at the prospect.  Yes, this man most definitely serves a purpose, he thought gleefully, as he raised the sword to begin carving.

*************

She'd just finished brushing her hair back into a ponytail when she heard the bedroom door open, his boots cross the threshold.  An unbidden smile lifted the corner of her mouth, and for some unexplainable reason, Buffy felt the urge to start humming.  She stifled a giggle.  Somehow, the whole thing just felt entirely too domestic, and she wasn't so far gone that she didn't see the humor in feeling like some dewy-eyed freshman going to the prom with a senior.  

He appeared in the doorway of the bathroom and leaned against the jamb.  Cortina had come through with what the vampire had requested; he was wearing a black t-shirt that matched those from home, albeit one that was just a trifle too small, outlining the muscles of his chest and shoulders in even more detail than usual.  Buffy glanced down at his hands, half-expecting to see them still shiny wet with black nail polish, and was surprised to see the lit cigarette dangling from his fingers.  "I see Vrolek demons don' t have any hang-ups about smoking," she commented dryly.

"Doesn't mean she's got good taste in brands," he responded, grimacing.  "Besides, I didn't think Harris would recognize me without one.  We wouldn't want the whelp getting any wrong ideas, now would we?"

Buffy sighed.  "I told you, I'll tell him.  It just wasn't…the right time."  As he closed the distance between them, she turned to check her appearance one last time, only to be jolted as the discontinuity of his arm slipping around her waist collided with her lone reflection.  She hated this aspect of vampires; it had creeped her out with Angel, and it still managed to give her the wiggins.

"Doesn't matter," Spike said as he bent to kiss her neck.  "Not when I've already got you."

Gently, the young woman broke free from his embrace, using her boots on the toilet as an excuse to busy herself elsewhere.  "Now remember," she said.  "You promised to behave."

Turning on the faucet in the sink, the vampire extinguished his cigarette before flicking it into the nearby bin.  "I've heard the lecture a dozen times, pet.  I'll be good and proper as long as the pillock keeps his yap shut."  He shook his head.  "Can't say I'm really looking forward to this, though.  I don't really fancy having to listen to Xander whinge for an hour just so he can get his stuff.  And what I don't get is, why in hell did he leave it there in the first place?"

Buffy shrugged.  "He said he got dragged away too quick to grab it."  Zipping up her second boot, she stood, straightening her shirt.  "Besides, if you're a good vamp," she continued with a smile, "maybe I can think of some kind of reward for you when we get back."

His response was to grab her hip, pulling the Slayer forward so that she was forced to lean against him.  "How many times do I have to tell you?" he taunted, his lips lowering to meet hers.  "I'm the Big _Bad_…"

*************

In spite of all her warnings and preparations, the trio's trek through the cave had not gone well.  In fact, they had only been walking for five minutes before Xander had made an unfortunate comparison between Spike and a case of syphilis and, true to his word, that was the line the vampire had refused to let go unnoticed.  After that, there had been no holding back as demon and construction worker laid into each other, their words growing increasingly venomous.  Buffy had been able to tolerate only a few minutes of their virulence before exploding, threatening each with death and dismemberment---not necessarily in that order---if they continued.  Since then, the cavern had been silent.

They trudged along, the only sounds coming from Spike's boots kicking at the occasional loose stone.  After almost an hour like this, he finally stopped in his tracks.

It took a second before Buffy and Xander realized what he'd done.  When they turned around to look at him, the vampire just stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets.  "This is stupid," he remarked.

The young woman glanced at her friend, before replying,  "OK, I'll bite.  What's stupid?"

"I think maybe me and Harris need to have a little talk.  You know.  Clear the air."

Her hazel eyes widened in fear.  "Spike, that's not necessary.  I think the air is plenty clear right now."  She sniffed pointedly.  "See?  Breathing just fine."  She tried a bright smile, but felt it fading around the edges even before she could finish it.

"No, for once, I think Spike's got a point."  Buffy turned in surprise at Xander's affirmation.  "A little talk might do us some good.  Just mano et…vampo."

The two men just stared at each other, leaving the Slayer's head swiveling between the two like she was watching some silent tennis match.  Finally, she sighed.  "I just want to go on record for saying that this is a really bad idea.  OK.  Have your little confab.  I'll go on ahead a bit and wait.  But if you're not caught up to me in ten minutes---and I mean both of you---I'm going to come back here and kick both of your asses into next Tuesday."  With one last look at them, Buffy disappeared around the bend.

There was a moment of silence as the two regarded each other.  "You don't like me," Spike finally said.

"If this is going to be a confession of obviousness and understatement, I'm going to go catch up to Buff right now."  Xander straightened his shoulders as he spoke, trying to make himself look more fearless than he felt.

"Look, I'm trying here," the vampire exclaimed, his annoyance shining clear.  "For her sake, if not for your sorry skin.  She just wants everything to be all cakes and puppies, with everybody playing nicely and gettin' along.  I, for one, am willing to give it a go, but you seem determined to throw a spanner into the works no matter what I try.  So you tell me.  What's it goin' to take?"

"You're in love with her."  He'd wondered about it before, but now, with the Big Bad Annoying One standing before him, Xander knew.  "You're in love with Buffy," he repeated.

There was no point in denying it.  "Like you're not," he snarked, pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.  He began to light one, only to find it batted out of his mouth and dashed to the ground.  Brows furrowed, he glowered at the younger man.

"That's different.  That's not 'in love.'  That's just 'love,' like she's my friend love.  And that means I care about what happens to her and that I worry about her getting involved with another vampire."

"Because none of us are any good for your precious Buffy, is that it?"  Spike had reached the end of his tolerance, and squared off with Xander.  "If I remember correctly, you were never too keen on ol' Angel hangin' around, either.  Not that I blame you on that one, 'cause the broodin' bit does get a little old after a while.  But he had a bleedin' soul and you still wouldn't cut him a break."

"He made her life hell!" Xander exploded.  "Not to mention torturing Giles, and killing Miss Calendar."

Spike rolled his eyes.  "That was Angelus, you wanker."

"Still a vampire.  You think because you've got a chip now, that makes you all peaches and cream?  That Buffy will just ignore the fact that you're a killing machine and come running into your arms because you help her occasionally?  Let me just jog your memory, in case you've forgotten.  She _pays_ you for information.  To her, you're just another snitch out to make an easy buck."

"Buffy _needs_ me."

Xander shook his head.  "No, she uses you.  And if you're too blind to see that, you're even more pathetic than I thought you were."  He took a step closer, bringing his face within inches of the vampire's.  "You can never give Buffy what she needs because you're evil, Spike.  Inherently, forevermore evil, incapable of doing anything that doesn't ultimately reward you in the end.  And she deserves better than that."

Spike had opened his mouth to counter Harris' argument when a resounding thud reverberated through the cave's walls, sending dust to fly through the air, settling onto the ground in disquiet.  There was a moment of hesitation as both men just looked in the direction the Slayer had disappeared, neither sure of what had just happened but both already fearing the worst.  It was the crackle of electric energy in the air that eventually spurred their feet to break into a run down the path.  Within fifty feet, however, the cave took a sudden turn to the right and it was there that both Spike and Xander skidded to a halt, their eyes widening in alarm.

Against the stone wall, a thrashing Buffy was suspended in mid-air, a nasty gash on her forehead dripping blood down her face, while opposite, a focused Celie had all her magics concentrated on the young Slayer…

To be continued in Part 19…


	9. Choices

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Spike and Xander have just discovered Buffy being held in Celie's magic, and the rest of the Scoobies are on their way.

*************

The moon hung low in the sky, an orange orb illuminating the desert sands almost as if it was day.  Although they'd brought plenty of flashlights this time, the group found that as they neared the coordinates on the map, the flashlights weren't really necessary, relying instead upon the moonlight.  The midnight hour encroached, and the temperature steadily dropped, leaving the girls hugging their arms around their bodies and wishing they'd worn heavier jackets.

"So much for global warming," Anya muttered.

Giles peered up into the darkness, a relaxed smile on his face.  "I think it's really quite lovely.  Bracing, actually."

"That's because it's fricking Hawaii compared to merry old England," the ex-demon commented.  

At the head of the gang, Willow stopped in her tracks, her gaze riveted on a dark shape looming against the approaching knoll.  "Ummmm, guys?" she said, her voice wavering.  "Big black scary thing at twelve o'clock."

Dropping the duffel from his shoulder, Rupert pulled out a crossbow and arrow, arming it with a deft hand.  "Animal or demon?"

In the distance, the ominous form grew larger as it raised itself to face the new arrivals.  Two tiny red pinpricks appeared against the blackness, prompting Willow and Tara to answer the Watcher simultaneously.  "Hound."

"Really?"  Giles lowered the weapon, stepping up in front of the witches.  "That must mean Buffy is nearby."

"That would be my guess," said Willow.  

"Why isn't it attacking us?" Anya asked from the rear.

"Because we're not an immediate threat," Rupert replied.  "Most likely, should we advance, we'd find it slightly more intimidating."

"Because six feet of dripping fangs and beady eyes is like Christmas," the ex-demon muttered.

The redheaded witch cocked her head, watching the dog.  "I don't know, Giles," she said softly.  "Something's not quite right.  It's not acting the same way it did in the alley, or in the cemetery the first time we saw it."  She took a tentative step forward, but was stopped by Tara's gentle hand on her forearm.  Turning, she looked at her girlfriend, a small line between her brows.  "Can't you feel it?" she asked.

For a long moment, Tara looked back at the Hound, then slowly released her grip on Willow.  "Just be careful," she whispered.

Giles raised the crossbow, aiming it at the dark mass in the cave's entrance.  "In case you're mistaken," he explained.

Taking a deep breath, Willow began walking forward, her gaze locked on the Hound.  "Hey there, puppy," she greeted soothingly.  "Whatcha doin'?  You waiting for somebody?"  Her measured steps were short, unhurried, as she eased herself into the dog's reach.  Its ears perked, alert to her approach, but it betrayed no other signs of alarm.  "That's right," the witch continued.  "I'm not going to hurt you.  See?  Nothing in my hands."  She held them up as testimony before slowly lowering them back to her sides.  "So why is such a pretty puppy out here all on his lonesome?  Huh?"

The distance between the two had lessened with every word, until Willow stood only a couple feet away.  Very slowly, the Hound sat back down on its haunches, its head tilted, its nose up as it sniffed at the air.  "Does puppy smell something?"  She brightened with understanding.  "Are you hungry?  You want my snack?"  Without taking her eyes off him, she pulled open the flap on her bag and reached inside, carefully extracting something wrapped in tin foil.  "I bet you like chicken, don't you?" 

From their vantage point, the remaining Scooby members watched as the Hound began nuzzling Willow's hand, its giant teeth gleaming in the moonlight.  Again, Giles lowered his weapon.  "Incredible," he murmured.

Tara glanced over at the older man, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth.  "She's got a way with animals," she said.  "You should see her with Miss Kitty Fantastico."

"That's all well and good," came from Anya behind them.  "But what about us?  That thing's probably got Buffy inside the cave.  Is it just going to stand by and let us go get her?"

"Only one way to find out," Giles said, and began the approach toward the knoll.

*************

It only took the sight of Buffy's blood to ignite the rage within the vampire's breast, and he charged at the dark witch without any thought as to the headache it would afford him.  He had only run a few steps, however, before a bolt of magic fired from Celie's palms, slamming into the Slayer's chest and pinning her even tighter against the wall.  "Any further and she dies, demon!" she ordered.

Spike froze, but his face was a seething mask of hatred, his eyes glittering gold.  "Let.  Her.  Go," he said through clenched teeth.

She laughed.  "Or what?" she taunted.  "You'll bite me?  We both know you can't, as much as you may wish to.  Thanks to your companion there, I know quite a bit about your…limitations."

Stepping forward, Xander held up his hands.  "This wasn't part of the deal, Celie."

At the recognition in the other man's words, Spike whirled.  "Deal?" he yelled.  "You made a deal with her?  What in fuck's sake were you thinkin'?  She works for the bastard who's after Buffy!"

"It wasn't supposed to go down like this!" Xander argued back, his face flushed in frustration.  

Within the hold of Celie's magic, Buffy lifted her head, fighting to regain control of her own body.  Blinking against the blood that was running into her eyes, she stared at the witch.  "You obviously want something," she said.  "Are you going to enlighten us, or do we have to play twenty questions?  Because I am _sooooo_ not in the mood for this right now."

"I want a trade."  The witch cast her black gaze toward Spike.  "I release the girl, and in return, you take her place."

The blond vampire felt his game face disappear as the situation crystallized for him.  Of course, that's why Xander had insisted on a bodyguard to walk him back to the cave's entrance, and why he hadn't exactly been thrilled when Buffy had announced she was coming along.  He'd agreed to exchange the Slayer for Spike.  

A glance back at the young man confirmed his suspicions, as Harris was doing his best not to look directly at him, focusing instead on his friend in the magical field.  Spike had never really had strong feelings one way or the other for his ex-roommate, but in spite of it all, a new niggle of respect danced in his regard for him.  It took courage to face the wrath of Buffy---and this would most definitely piss her off---and Xander had made the choice anyway, believing that in spite of the consequences, it would save his friend, which ultimately was both of their desire.  As to why Daymon's witch was willing to defy his command in order to satisfy her own plans, Spike had no idea, but if it meant Buffy went free, he was prepared to make the deal.

He swept his sapphire eyes across the cave, and met the Slayer's.  The silent understanding passed between them, and she began struggling again.  "Don't, Spike!"

"Quiet!"  Celie's command was accompanied by another flash of magic, this time knocking the young woman unconscious.  Spike's steps toward her were instinctive, but he checked himself as the witch stiffened, ready to attack again.  "The choice is yours, vampire," she said, her voice suddenly low and seductive.  Inwardly, she prayed that he wouldn't notice how much weaker she had grown with each assault, that she was only now barely able to maintain her hold, that sticking with her resolve would mean temporarily deserting the Hound and her duties in favor of teleporting the vampire out of the cave.

Xander hung back against the stone wall, confusion coloring his brown eyes.  Why didn't she just take Spike? he wondered.  She had the power, so all she had to do was use it.  Even more bewildering, why did it look like Spike was actually seriously considering her offer?

"If I agree, you let Buffy go.  No more hunting with that demon dog of yours, and she walks out of this cave on her own two feet."  His voice was cold as he delivered his terms, but it burned in Celie's heart as a flare of hope.

"Agreed."

He cast one more look at the battered form of the Slayer pinned to the wall.  Her shirt was torn, revealing magical burns across her abdomen, and the gash on her forehead still bled, but he could see that all of her wounds were superficial; she would heal quickly.  Don't know what the witch wants, luv, Spike thought, but I'm going to do my damnedest to get back to Sunnydale, one way or another.  Be strong, and give my best to your mum and Niblet.

He turned to face the black witch.  "Done."

*************

It felt like an enemy had ripped out some internal organ, and he howled into the night sky, a forlorn cry that ricocheted against the nearby fauna, bouncing back to sink into the desert sand.  Blinking against the blinding light flooding from the cave's mouth, Willow and the others held their ears while the Hound bayed in agony, no longer afraid for their own safety, but now concerned for his.

As the light faded, the redheaded witch reached out to stroke the midnight fur.  "Did you feel that, Tara?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Her girlfriend nodded.  "That was way powerful," she agreed.

"Feel what?" Anya pried.  "I didn't feel anything."

Before the witches could answer, a faint, "Buffy!" filtered from the cavern.

The ex-demon's eyes widened.  "That's Xander!" she cried, and rushed past Willow and the Hound, following the sound.

*************

He cradled her in his arms, brushing the stray lock of golden hair back out of her eyes.  She was breathing, that was a good thing.  As soon as Spike had agreed to Celie's deal, the witch had turned, focusing her magics on the vampire, and the pair had disappeared in a dazzling flash.  Once released from her hold, Buffy had fallen to the ground, landing in a crumpled heap, and Xander had rushed over as soon as he could see again.  She didn't appear seriously harmed, but since it was magic, he knew there was no way he could know for sure.  He had to get her to Giles.

"Xander!"

His head jerked up at the sound of Anya's voice, and he suddenly found himself in a stranglehold as his girlfriend flung her arms around his neck.  "You had me so worried!" she said, her words muffled by his hair.  "Don't you ever do that to me again!"

"Anya," he choked.  "Can't…breathe…"

Sitting back on her heels, she loosened her grip but didn't let go, almost as if she was afraid he would disappear again if she did.  She looked down at the Slayer's bleeding forehead.  "She's not dead, is she?"

"No, but I wish Willow or Tara were here to check her out."  As if on cue, Giles and the witches came hurrying into the cavern.  At the sight of his unconscious charge, the Watcher ran to her side, bending over her to peer into her face.

"What happened?" he murmured.

"Magic," Xander explained.  "Bad magic.  But I think she's OK."

Looking around the otherwise empty cave, Willow asked, "Where's Spike?"

The pang of guilt stabbing into his stomach was unexpected, but before Xander could answer, the Slayer groaned, stirring slightly in his arms.  Everyone's attention was immediately diverted, and they held their breath as her eyelashes fluttered open.

"Buffy?" asked Giles.  "How do you feel?"

Her hand reached up to touch the gash on her head.  "Like I got stomped on by Bigfoot," she groaned, pulling herself away and sitting up.  Using the wall behind her as leverage, Buffy slowly rose to her feet.  "Where'd she go?" she queried, looking around, a line between her hazel eyes.

"She's gone."    No point in delaying the inevitable, Xander thought, and added, "And so's Spike."

Buffy sniffed the air, and realized for the first time that she could no longer sense her lover, that his absence was like a palpable hole in her surroundings, and that for the first time since her kidnapping, she felt utterly alone.  She turned in incredulity to Xander.  "What did you do?" she demanded.  

Although he now stood in order to more ably face her head on, the young man took a step backward, unsure of the source of the Slayer's anger.  "I found you.  Isn't that what's important here?"

"By selling out Spike to the Princess of Darkness?  After everything he's done for me, this is how you repay him?"  She turned on her heel and began marching toward the depths of the cavern, toward Cortina's realm.  When Xander took a step to follow her, she whirled, holding up her hand to make him stop.  "You _so_ don't want to be around me right now," she threatened.  

"Buff, he went of his own accord.  It was his choice."

"Because he thought it would save me from…what was your little pal's name, Xander?  Because I didn't quite catch it."

"…Celie."  His voice was low, and his growing fear began to gnaw at his gut.  This time, his screw-up had been of monstrous proportions and even he was beginning to realize that now.

She nodded.  "Nice to know you're on such friendly terms with her, considering just a few days ago, she was only trying to, you know, hunt me down.  God, I knew you didn't like him, but I never thought you hated Spike enough to do this."

"Hey, in my own defense, the math seemed pretty easy.  Vampire, or Vampire Slayer.  Pretty easy calculation."  He was getting angry now.  Why couldn't she see that he'd just been doing what he thought was best?

"She's not even a demon; how is he going to defend himself?  Did you even once think of how Spike was going to get away from her?"

Giles finally stepped forward to intervene.  "Buffy, perhaps you're over-reacting just a bit.  After all, it was only Spike."

The young woman turned wide eyes to her mentor.  "Only Spike?" she said.  "Next time you'll be saying, it was only Anya, or only Willow.  It's not 'only Spike,' Giles.  Not after---."  She cut herself off, ducking her head.

Behind the Watcher, Willow and Tara exchanged knowing glances.  Buffy knew, and even more importantly, their own conclusions about her feelings seemed to be accurate as well.  They watched her as she let out a long, shuddering breath.

"You just have no idea," she whispered.  "He's saved my life so many times now, I've lost count.  I'm not about to just desert Spike so that this Celie person can do whatever she wants to him.  Not after everything."  She raised defiant eyes up to her friends.  "If you're with me, great.  But if you're not interested in helping me get him back, thanks for everything, but maybe you should think about heading back to Sunnydale without me."

"He could be anywhere, Buff," Xander said quietly.  "Don't you think you've got more important things to worry about than a wild goose chase?"

"Oh! Oh!"  Willow brightened.  "She left the Hound here.  Outside.  We can use him to find Spike!"

The young woman relaxed.  "That's great, Will.  Now, I have to check back in with Cortina---."

Giles' eyes narrowed.  "Cortina?"

"It's a long story; I'll fill you in on the way."  Buffy half-turned, then paused.  "That is…if you're coming."

The Watcher looked at the solemnity in his charge's face.  Experience taught him that when she set her mind to something, there was no changing it, but even he had been taken aback at her vociferous defense of the chipped vampire.  Something was different; he only hoped that she trusted him enough to confide in him.  Adjusting the weight of his duffel, he strode to her side.  "Well, it appears to be the night for walking.  Lead on."

"What about the Hound?" Willow chimed in.  "He's too big to come with us."

"Will he run if we're not around?" Buffy queried.  "There's got to be entrances big enough for him to fit into somewhere.  I just have to ask Cortina about them, and then maybe she can send some of her men back to bring him in."

"I can try explaining it to him," Willow replied.  "He seems to trust me for some reason."

The Slayer nodded.  "Do it.  I'd rather not have my best shot at finding Spike go off after a desert bunny or something."   Without even looking over at where Xander and Anya stood, she disappeared around the bend in the cave, with Giles right on her heels.

"So, what's the deal?" Anya asked.  "Are we going to help, or are we going home?"

He set his jaw.  "We do what we always, hon," he said.  "We help."  And taking her hand, Xander led her after the Slayer…

To be continued in Part 20…


	10. Preparations

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Celie has disappeared with Spike, and Buffy has taken the Scooby gang back to Cortina's before heading out to find the vampire.

*************

Their toes dangled in the water, enjoying the warm caress of the stream, as Willow and Tara watched Buffy pace along its side.  After explaining about Cortina, the Slayer had been silent for the rest of the entire journey, and they had both noticed her determination not to enjoy the beauty of her surroundings, especially in the carved-out lagoon, ignoring her friends as they oohed and aahed about the waterfall and benches.  She'd taken up post near the entrance, only speaking when two squat demons had arrived, and then it was only to request that they fetch their mistress.

"I can't believe we were so wrong about this place," Willow murmured.  "Definitely no more ooglies."

"It's all kind of romantic, don't you think?" replied Tara.  "Being shut away from the world, with this gorgeous grotto to play in.  I'm not sure I'd want to leave."  She glanced over at Xander and Anya, cuddling nearby, and leaned into her girlfriend.  "Do you think this is where Buffy and…?" she asked suggestively.

"Oh, goddess, definitely!  I mean, wouldn't you?"

Before Tara could answer, Cortina came sweeping in, her white caftan floating behind her.  She went immediately to Buffy's side.  "My men told me you were back, and without Spike," she rushed.  "What happened?"  The white demon noticed for the first time the other people in the cave.  Her blue eyes looked questioningly back at the Slayer.

"These are my friends," Buffy hurried.  "You know Xander and that's his girlfriend, Anya."

"The ex-vengence demon."  Cortina called out to the pair.  "Sorry again about the scratches!"

"The two with their feet in the water are Willow and Tara," she said, gesturing.  

"So they're the witches," the demon observed.

The redhead's eyes widened.  "How'd you know that?"

Cortina smiled.  "I can feel your powers," she explained.  "Part of the whole Vrolek gig is our capacity for dampening magic.  I could sense you guys coming in."

Tara nodded knowingly.  "That explains why our spell f-f-fizzled."

Behind her, Giles waited patiently to be introduced.  "And this is---." started Buffy.

"Rupert Giles!"  Cortina rushed past the young woman in order to get closer to the older man.  Her frank appraisal of the Englishman brought a slight blush to his cheeks and he smiled nervously.

"You…know me?" he asked as smoothly as he could manage.

"Of course!  A Slayer is as only as good as her Watcher.  I'm sure that everything Buffy is today is completely due to your influence and training."

Tara and Willow exchanged a surprised look.  Cortina was flirting with Giles!  What was even funnier, the Watcher actually seemed to be responding to it.

"Well, I can only take partial credit…"  His words trailed off as he removed his glasses to smile at her more directly.  

The white demon leaned into the Slayer.  "You do surround yourself with the most handsome men," she said.  "Totally different types, of course, but handsome, nonetheless."

A flabbergasted Buffy just gaped at her hostess.  "That's Giles," she was finally able to spit out.

Cortina patted the young woman on the shoulder.  "Oh, I know it must be hard for you to see him outside of his mentor role.  Just trust me on this one."  She flashed a dazzling smile at Rupert.  "You must have fascinating stories to tell."

"Well, actually---."

"Can you guys possibly do this later?" Buffy interrupted.  "Like, outside of my direct line of sight?  Right now, the issue is Spike."

"God, how thoughtless of me!"  Cortina pulled the Slayer over to one of the benches, forcing her to sit down.  "What happened?"

"We were ambushed.  The witch disappeared with him."

The demon frowned.  "Another witch?  How did she use her magic in my caves?"

Buffy shook her head.  "I turned the corner and, bam!  Right into one of her blasts."

"She must be very powerful," Cortina mused.

"Oh, she is," chimed in Willow.  "But not so powerful that she couldn't take the Hound with her."

"That's the dog I sent your guys after," the Slayer explained.  "It tracks things.  We're hoping it can find Spike."

The demon's eyes softened, and she reached out to stroke Buffy's cheek, pushing her hair back out of her eyes.  "I'm so sorry," she said softly.  "This must be really rough on you."

There was a moment when Willow thought she saw her friend's face soften, her hazel eyes gleam with unshed tears, but it quickly vanished.  "I'm going to get him back," Buffy averred.

"Of course you will."  Cortina stepped back.  "In spite of her spell, there's really only one direction she could've gone in.  Her magic wouldn't have worked in any other way, no matter how powerful she is.  I'll go get those maps I promised you earlier.  You can still use them to pinpoint where your kidnapper is, but they should also help in getting you off in the right direction to find your---."  She broke off as Buffy's eyes widened, her head shaking almost imperceptibly.  "---Spike," she finished.  She turned and smiled brightly at Giles.  "Would you like to come with me?  I've got some wonderful books you might be interested in."

The Watcher couldn't respond quickly enough.  "That would be delightful.  I so rarely get to see anything directly from the demon realm."

She laughed, hooking her arm through his, leading him away from the stream.  "I know.  We do have a tendency to be a little private about these things."

The cave was silent as the group of friends watched Cortina and Giles disappear.  Finally, Xander piped up.  "OK, who else is weirded out by Giles macking on the demon chick?"  He held his hand up and looked around.  Without breaking their stares from the exit the pair had used, all of the girls simultaneously raised their hands in kind.  "Thought so."

Buffy was the first to break the spell.  "I'm going back to my room to get my things," she said to no one in particular.  "If they beat me back here, just start looking over the areas that Cort thinks the witch could've taken Spike."  She strode away, her head low, eyes on the floor in front of her.

Willow leaned over to whisper in Tara's ear.  "I'm just going to---."

"---go talk to Buffy," the other girl finished.  Squeezing her hand, Tara watched as the redhead rose, picked up her shoes, and followed after her best friend.

*************

When Willow rounded the corner, she was surprised to see Buffy just standing in the open doorway, seemingly unable to cross the threshold.  "I knew it was a lame excuse," the Slayer said softly.  "I mean, I was kidnapped.  What things could I possibly have here?"  When she looked up to gaze at her friend, the pain in her hazel eyes shone like a beacon.  "So have you come to talk me out of it?  Because hate to disappoint here, but it's not going to happen."

"No."  Willow shuffled her feet, unsure of whether or not she should approach.  "I thought you might just want to…talk."

"It's OK, Will.  Spike told me that you and Tara knew."  Leaning against the door frame, Buffy slid down it until she was sitting on the floor.  "Go on.  I'm ready.  Give me the speech about how I'm doing this out of some stupid sense of responsibility just because he loves me."

Very carefully, the redhead stepped over and sat down opposite the Slayer, her legs curled up underneath her.  "Nope, can't do that," she said softly.  When Buffy raised her questioning eyes, Willow added, "Wrong speech."

"Then, can I have the one where you tell me that chocolate is really brain food?  'Cause I'm in serious need of some good news for a change."

In spite of the small joke, neither girl smiled.  The redheaded witch wasn't sure how to start, and eventually said, "You know, Xander feels really bad about what happened---."

Buffy held up her hand, cutting off her friend's words.  "Don't.  Start.  The boy is so on my shit list right now."  She shook her head.  "I just don't get the why of it.  Once he saw that I was OK, why didn't he just forget about this Celie person?  Why go through with giving over Spike?"

"I don't think he knows about the whole, you know, feeling thing."  Willow bit her lip, braving a quick look into her friend's eyes.

"That wouldn't have made a difference, Will.  In fact, I think if he knew that Spike was in love with me, he would've put a big bow around him and handed him over to Celie on a silver platter."

"I didn't mean that," the witch said.  She took a deep breath.  "I meant, he doesn't know about your feelings…for Spike."

The friends regarded each other, two sets of green eyes wary of how far each could go.  Finally, Buffy sighed.  "I don't suppose it's even worth me trying to lie about it," she said.

"Nope, not really."  In spite of her discomfort, Willow smiled and scooched herself over so that she was sitting right next to the other girl.  "I'll understand if you don't want to talk about what exactly happened, but you know I'm here if you need me, right?"

Ducking her head, Buffy felt the familiar sting of a tear and blinked rapidly in an attempt to make it go away.  "How'd you know?  Am I really that transparent?  Lemme guess, your next trick is you tell me what I had for lunch."

"It was lots of little things actually," the Wiccan explained.  "Stuff you said during the fever, how you acted when you realized Spike was gone.  Oh, and your sex dream about him.  That was the pretty big tip-off that kind of got me and Tara thinking about it in the first place."

Buffy eyes widened in horror.  "He told you about the dream?"

"Not specifics, just that you had it."  She couldn't resist leaning in, a wicked smile creasing her face.  "Was it at least a good one?"

"Ohmigod, amazing!" the Slayer blurted, then blushed a furious red at her own eagerness.

Willow giggled.  "There's no reason to be embarrassed.  Spike's a major hottie, even if he is a vampire and all Big Bad and everything."  She sobered.  "Is that what you're so afraid of?  That it'll be just like it was when Angel went all Angelus on us?"

"No, not really," Buffy admitted.  "I mean, yes, Spike has this chip so he can't hurt people anymore, but that's not the same thing as having a soul.  He's still a demon, Will, but I keep forgetting that every time he does something unexpected.  Like telling me that he loves me.  Or agreeing to trade himself for me with Celie."

"Is that what happened back there?"  At her friend's nod, the redhead let out a low whistle.  "Wow.  I mean, we kinda figured it was something like that, but we didn't know for sure."

"There's more."  The blonde took a deep breath, steadying her racing nerves.  "Spike and I…had sex."

Willow rolled her eyes.  "Well, duh."  When an astonished Buffy just looked at her friend, the witch elaborated.  "I'm not exactly blind.  I was your roommate for a year, remember?  I know what your bed looks like after you've slept in it."  She gestured to the unkempt four-poster behind them.  "And I can recognize sex sheets when I see them."

"And it doesn't…freak you out?"

"Well, honestly, probably leaning a little toward the freaky."  She hastened to add, "But that's my problem, not yours.  You've got to do what's right for Buffy, not what's right for Willow, or Xander, or Giles.  And if you think Spike's the right thing…"

"But that's just it," the Slayer argued.  "I don't know if he is the right thing.  What I do know, is that for the first time in, like, forever, I don't have to hold back.  He _gets_ me, more than anybody I've ever known, and I don't have to pretend to be something I'm not."  Finally, the tear that had been threatening to fall slid down her cheek, and she turned shiny eyes to her best friend.  "Do you have any idea how much I hate the idea that the person I relate to the most is a demon?  What does that say about me?"

Willow's voice was low, soothing.  "That says you walk in some pretty dark places, Buffy.  But you're the Chosen One, and that's part of the whole package.  _We_ know that…why don't you?"  Both of them knew she wasn't expecting a response; merely asking the question was enough.  She plunged on.  "You don't think it's a Riley rebound thing, do you?"

"I considered that," she said, "but I'm going to say…no.  What's happening between me and Spike started a long time ago, way before Riley ever came into the picture.  I think it's just really weird timing."  

The pair sat in silence for a long moment, each lost in her own thoughts.  For Willow, knowing the truth was a relief; she hated the uncertainty, the second-guessing that sometimes went along with being Buffy's friend.  The question that was consuming her now was, how long before Buffy told everyone else?

The witch had no idea that her friend was considering exactly the same thing.  Willow had been the least of her worries when she'd thought about breaking the news to the Scoobies.  The redhead was a soft touch, quick to turn the other cheek and believe in the best in people.  What concerned Buffy was how her Watcher would react to her newfound relationship with an ex-Big Bad.  Demons were to be slain, not brought into the bosom of such a tightly knit group as the Scoobies…

"Can I ask you a question?" Buffy said, wiping the tears from her cheek.  "Slightly OT."

"Sure, shoot."

"What do you think of Cortina?"

Willow shrugged.  "She seems nice.  A little on the flirty side, maybe, but nice."

"That's what I thought.  And she doesn't seem to have an agenda, which for a demon is just…not natural."  Slowly, she climbed to her feet, stretching her muscles.  "Sometimes, I miss the old days.  Demons bad, humans good.  Why did they need to go and change the rules?"

Willow stood and smiled.  "That's what makes it all so interesting.  Everyone knows that."

*************

He stared up into the night sky, the cold twinkling of the stars reflecting off the black slits of his eyes.  He had forgotten this…the frosty rush of air over his scaled flesh…the smell of the dirt as it settled into the dark…the freedom to taste and savor the creatures that populated the wasteland of this human dimension…

Now that he'd had some sustenance, Daymon felt stronger than he had in decades, stronger even than in the years prior to his first attempt at the cleansing ritual.  Perhaps he'd been mistake in thinking that the ritual was necessary, that maybe he could just resume his previous life…wreaking havoc among the mortals of this world…sampling the many diverse bloods that flowed so freely.  But, deep down, he knew that that was only wishful thinking.  Even now, he could sense that, just as before, the demon that possessed him was diseased and if he didn't want to die a horrific and agonizing death, he must be rid of it.  Hence, the cleansing…

So many scents…hunting the Chosen One would almost be a pleasure.  He must remember to be gentle with her; in order for the ritual to succeed, she had to be in perfect health.  However, he could still taste the anger he'd felt when she'd run off and Daymon worried that it would color his battle with her, push him too far, force him to injure her beyond healing.  He almost hoped that Spike would be with her when he discovered her whereabouts; it would be a delight to force the vampire to watch him snatch away his love, watch her get torn from his grasp and know that he was powerless to stop him…

*************

He didn't know where he was.  All he knew was that he ached, from the tips of his boot-clad toes to the ends of his unmoussed curls.  He hadn't hurt this much since that bloody church had fallen in on him, and the irony of that certainly didn't escape him.  The Slayer had been the reason then as well, although this time, he'd actually invited it by choosing to take her place.  

Thinking of Buffy distracted him from the pain, and Spike fervently hoped that the whelp had done the smart thing and gotten her back to Cortina's.  The Vrolek would help her find the bastard who was hunting her; he only regretted that he couldn't be there to enjoy it when the Slayer kicked his ass.  Still, he had every intention of keeping his promise and returning to Sunnydale.  With Buffy there, only a stake could keep him away now…

To be continued in Part 21…


	11. Watching

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  The Scooby gang has converged at Cortina's before going off to find Spike, while Buffy and Willow have had the talk about the Slayer's newfound feelings for the vampire.

*************

His fingers caressed the leather spines, tracing the gold lettering as he scanned the titles.  "You have the most extraordinary collection," Giles murmured.  "The Druxadian Diaries, the complete Minoan Chronicles…"  He pulled out a thin black volume, and flipped it open to the title page.  "I thought all the copies of Torvald's Grand Histories were destroyed in the ice storms of 962."

Cortina smiled mysteriously.  "Obviously, not all of them."

"I have to admit," the Watcher said, removing his glasses, "I'm rather jealous of the resources you must be able to command with all this literature at your disposal.  I know it would certainly make my job much easier if I had access to such a wealth of information.  I'm very grateful you've allowed me to view them."

"How else is a demon going to lure a librarian to her lair?"

Rupert's eyes widened, turning to view a somber Cortina just staring at him with those translucent blue eyes.  A moment of fear gripped his throat, constricting it, before the demon collapsed into giggles.

"Only kidding!" she said through her laughter.  "God, you mortals are so easy!"  She shook her head.  "I guess Spike is the only one of you guys who knows anything about Vroleks."

Giles relaxed, replacing the book back onto the shelf.  "I'm afraid the Council's official line is that your species is extinct, so there aren't any details regarding your particular foibles in any of our texts."

Cortina closed the distance between them, stopping only when she was a few inches away.  "So, I'm sure you've been doing what you Watchers do best since you got here.  Tell me what you've learned about…my kind."

"Well, Buffy gave me some details.  Allergic to sunlight and alcohol.  This rather remarkable ability to impede magic is very intriguing."  His cleared his throat as the demon tilted her head, giving him a coy half-smile.  "And there's the sense of humor, of course."

"Damn," she said.  "And here I was, going for charming and delightful."

Giles laughed, in spite of himself.  "I wouldn't presume…"

"Ever the gentleman," Cortina giggled, stepping back slightly to allow the Watcher a little more room to maneuver around the bookshelves.  "Don't think I'm going to let you hide behind that façade for too long.  I know all about your colorful history…Ripper."  She allowed him to see the twinkle in her eyes before ducking her head, turning to the desk and pulling open the bottom drawer.  "Now, about those maps…"

A bemused smile twisted the Watcher's lips as he watched her bend over, the ivory robe clinging to her curves.  Although very little of the demon's skin was actually visible, he found himself slightly aroused by her sensual grace and wondered absently if this was yet another trait of the Vroleks.  "Cortina," he started, "one thing still puzzles me."

"Oh?  What's that?"  Her voice was muffled as she dug around in the drawer.

"Now don't get me wrong; I do appreciate all the help you're providing.  I just…don't understand why, and I suppose I'm waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop."

The white demon straightened, her arms full of rolled-up charts.  "And here I thought we were friends," she joked.  "It's like I told Buffy when she refused to believe that I didn't have some ulterior motive.  I like my solitude and I'd like to keep it that way.  And if doing this for the Slayer improves my odds, then I can do this one little thing.  And as for Spike, well, that one's just too easy.  I'm a sucker for young love."

The Watcher frowned as she began poring over the maps.  "Young…love?" he queried.

Cortina's eyes flickered shut.  "Shit," she muttered before looking directly at Rupert.  "Another Vrolek trait?  We suck at keeping secrets."

Fumbling with the text in his hand, Giles felt the backs of his knees start to give and reached for the chair to steady himself.  "And there's a…secret concerning Spike and Buffy?" 

"Well, I suppose the cat's already poking out its head.  I might as well let the whole thing out of the bag.  Just don't go telling that I was the one who blabbed."  She sighed.  "You're going to want to sit, I'm pretty sure."  She watched as he just dropped to the floor where he'd been standing.  "OK, I meant the chair, but that works, too."

"You're not about to tell me that anything…untoward…is going on between Buffy and Spike, are you?"  Please, he thought, not again.  I'm not even blind this time.

Her laughter tinkled in the air, light and crisp, as she looked down at him.  "Oh, hon, if untoward is what you're worried about, you really don't want to know about the six guys it's taking to clear the cave-in they caused."

Giles' jaw snapped shut with an audible click.  Buffy…Spike…sex…no… "Please…tell me it was a spell…even if you have to lie…"  Willow had done it once, perhaps it had happened again.

Tilting her head, Cortina looked down at the Watcher as he removed his glasses and began chewing on the earpiece.  His case of denial was definitely cute.  "I believe we covered this already, Rupert," she explained.  "I'm a Vrolek, these are my caves, hence, no magic…"

"But Buffy wouldn't…I mean…she couldn't…not without…"  His blue eyes peered up into hers, the lines on his brow standing out in stark relief.  "My Slayer would know better than to get involved with someone so blatantly…evil."

"Look," the demon started, settling down on the floor beside him.  "I don't think you've got anything to worry about when it comes to Spike.  He is absolutely head over heels for that girl.  He'd never do anything---."  Giles' sharp laughter cut her off, and she frowned.  "What?  What's so funny?"

"I presume I can add incredible naivete to my list of Vrolek qualities," he said harshly.  "Those two have been trying to kill each other for years.  I see no reason for their animosity to simply vanish overnight."  

Cortina shrugged.  "Maybe you're not watching as closely as you should be then," she commented.  "Because I just know what I saw."  Her delicate hand reached down, and began playing with the fabric of his trousers, making tiny pleats along his thigh.  "And here's a question for you.  Let's say I'm right."  As his mouth opened to disagree, the demon lifted her free hand to cut him off.  "For argument's sake only, if that makes you feel better."  Giles' mouth slowly closed.  "Let's say, Buffy and Spike do have genuine feelings for each other.  That maybe, for some unknown reason, Spike is exactly what she needs right now.  Why ever in the world would you want to take that away from her?"  She turned wide blue eyes to meet his, oblivious to the effect her touch was doing to distract him.

"I'm her Watcher.  It's my duty to protect her to the best of my capabilities."

Cortina rolled her eyes.  "Well, that doesn't sound too much like something straight out of the Council handbook.  Slayers don't exactly have a long shelf life, Rupert.  Let the girl grab what happiness she can."

"I'm not against Buffy being happy," Giles argued.  "I'm against Spike.  You don't know him like we do.  He's spent the last hundred years torturing and terrorizing thousands of people.  Chip or no chip, he is still evil."

"Because he's a demon?"  Her voice was subdued and her smile had disappeared.  "I'm a demon.  You think I'm evil?"

He looked down at her tiny hand on his leg.  At the moment, he didn't know what to think.  His arousal was now full-blown; Rupert was certain that she could see his excitement through the thin fabric of his pants, that she was deliberately baiting him in an attempt to make her point.  Very carefully, he shifted his weight so that her grip on his thigh loosened.  "You certainly don't seem…" but he couldn't finish the thought.  Taking a deep breath, he tried again.  "The only emotion that Spike could ever have for Buffy is hatred.  He's made that abundantly clear, time and time again.  If he's professing otherwise now, it's because he must have some secret purpose that we're just not aware of yet."

She took a long time to respond.  "Someday, Rupert Giles is going to come face to face with something that he's not going to be able to explain away too easily.  And I do believe that one of two things will happen."  Very slowly, Cortina rose to her feet.  "Either he will become the best Watcher the Council ever trained, because he's finally learned how to exist outside that tiny little box he's been closeted away in.  Or, he'll go completely off the deep end and we'll find him locked away in an English monastery, trying to convince the local townsfolk that the next Big Bad is living in that funny-smelling wardrobe stowed away in the loft."  She glanced down at him.  "Personally, I'm voting for the former."

Giles watched Cortina pull two of the maps from her pile on the desk and tuck them under her arm.  She was a curiosity, this demon; if it weren't for their present circumstances, and that included this Buffy/Spike issue---mustn't dwell too long on that---he was certain that she would provide quite a few hours of interesting discussion, with her rather unusual…viewpoint.

She gestured toward the books behind him.  "Feel free to borrow whatever you'd like," she offered.

"That's…very generous of you."  Slowly, Rupert stood, a genuine smile creasing his face.

"Not really," the white demon said, crossing to the door.  "I need to give you some kind of excuse to come back and see me."  And with a fleeting glance back at the older man, she floated out into the hallway.

*************

She stared down in disbelief at the book spread out in her lap.  "Do I really look like that?" Buffy asked, her voice incredulous.  She held it up so that the picture was right next to her face.  "My hair's not _that_ poofy…is it?"

Tilting her head, Willow's forehead crinkled in concentration.  "It's more like freshman hair," she said.  "Kinda like that crimpy thing you got stuck on for a while."

"Figures I'd be captured for all posterity with last year's hair," the Slayer sighed.  She was about to toss the book aside when Anya lunged for it, snatching it from Buffy's grasp.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to get this edition?" the ex-demon defended.  "You don't just go throwing it on the ground.  It's still valuable merchandise."  She wiped a bit of imaginary dust from the cover before tucking it back into her bag.

"Merchandise or not," Buffy continued, rolling her eyes, "there's no way that prophecy's coming true.  I'll just kill the demon before he can do the ritual."

"And you don't think he's back at the ranch?" asked Willow.

The Slayer shook her head.  "Daymon said we were flying 'home,' wherever that is, so he obviously wanted to take me to the demon.  With my luck, it'll be some dirty hole in the ground in Podunk, Iowa."

"Actually, Daymon's from Greece, so the d-d-demon's probably there," explained Tara.

Buffy brightened.  "Oooo, Greece would be nice.  Warm sand, hot sun, definitely  a step up from the normal doom and gloom that is my life.  So.  All we've got to do is find Daymon, force him to take us to his boss, kill his boss, and then get back to Sunnydale and deal with this Glory disaster."  She snorted.  "Since when did being the bad guy mean it's OK to start passing the buck so much?  I mean, this demon gets Daymon to find me, Daymon used Celie, and Celie used the Hound.  Nobody takes pride in doing a job themselves anymore."

"Be careful," giggled Willow.  "You're starting to sound exactly like Giles."

"And here I thought I wasn't delusional from that fever anymore," Buffy said.  "Somebody slap me."

"I heard that."  The Watcher's voice came up behind them as he and Cortina entered the grotto, she carrying the maps and he with a stack of books.  "Since you're discussing the demon and the cleansing ritual, should I presume you've changed your mind about finding Spike?" he asked as he came up beside the group.

"No."  Her voice was firm, and Giles couldn't help but notice how she refused to meet his eyes.  "Spike comes first.  There's no way I'm going to let that witch lay a finger on him, and if that means I have to beat her senseless to do it, well, that's just a bonus for me, isn't it?"  Brushing past her mentor, she went to Cortina, taking the charts from the white demon.  "You said there's only one way she could've gone."

"Yes."  She stood behind the Slayer as the young woman rolled the maps flat onto the rock bench.  "We're here," she explained, pointing with a dainty finger at the paper.  "Normally, my influence prevents magic within a circle, but this…"  Her hand slid across the page to a mountain range.  "…manages to act as a barrier somehow.  Magic works on the other side of it, just as if I wasn't around."

"And you think that's where she went?" queried Giles, as he peered at the map over his charge's shoulder.  

"No, I _know_ that's where she went.  There isn't anyplace else close enough for her to teleport to safely.  If she'd tried moving within my sphere of influence, her spell wouldn't have worked at all, she would've just bounced back into the cave where she disappeared from, and you wouldn't be here right now trying to figure out where she is."  Cortina smiled.  "But I've got something else interesting to show you," she added.

Buffy frowned.  "Interesting good, or interesting bad?"

"Just…interesting."  The demon pointed to a third spot on the chart.  "This is the cave you were in when my men found you.  And based on what you told me about how far you'd traveled and landmarks you remember seeing…"  Her voice trailed off as her finger returned to the mountain range.  

"…that's where Daymon's ranch is," the Slayer finished.  "She took Spike back to her boss."

Cortina shrugged.  "Or at least near to his hold."

"So, we could conceivably kill two birds with one stone," offered Giles.  "Rescue Spike, and at the same time, find Buffy's abductor."

"Finally!"  The blonde began stretching her arms, bouncing on her toes.  "Think we can find some vamps on the way?  I am so in the mood for a good slay."

The white demon smiled.  "Not this far out in the desert, I'm afraid," she apologized.  

"Yes," agreed the Watcher.  "You should save your energy for our…confrontation."

The smile that creased Buffy's face wasn't phased by her mentor's mild chastisement.  Good news was good news, and no stuffy Watcher was going to take that away from her.  Just hang in there, Spike, she thought.  Help's on the way…

*************

From the bowels of the adjoining cave, the only acknowledgment he made of having heard the Scoobies was a slow blink of his black eyes.  So, the vampire was with Celie.  What a shame he wouldn't be around; he'd so looked forward to witnessing the bleached one's pain.  Oh well.  He would've sighed, but he knew that silence was his best weapon at the moment.  At least now, he thought, I have an explanation of a sort as to why the witch grabbed Spike in the first place.  Her agenda remained a mystery, but since Daymon was now so close to obtaining the Chosen One, he no longer cared.  Let her have her fun…

His one regret was that Buffy now knew of the ritual's existence and would fight even fiercer in order to prevent it from occurring.  His wish to keep from harming her would most likely not be met; he only hoped that her advanced healing capabilities would work well enough to mend what damage he might have to inflict.  Although he couldn't see them, he knew that those who accompanied her were the friends that Celie had briefly mentioned.  They were an unforeseen encumbrance, but casualties were to be expected in a battle for supremacy.  

And he fully intended to win…

To be continued in Part 22…


	12. Revisited

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Giles has learned the truth about Spike and Buffy, while Daymon has found the Scoobies in Cortina's caves.

*************

She hadn't made a noise, but even in the blackness, he knew she was there.  Vanilla…the dry perfume of Cortina's sheets…and sweat, a salty tang that caused his mouth to suddenly water, the image of her golden skin shining in the light fixating on his inner eye.  His excitement was immediate; he only wished that he could turn his head so that he could see her approach, feast on her animal grace as she wound her way to his side.  But the witch's magic bound him in place, and he could no more look around than he could sit up.

Hot fingers trailed up the bare skin of his arm, and Spike found himself unable to suppress the shudder of pleasure the faint touch evoked.  His eyes flickered shut as the Slayer traced the prominence of his clavicle before mirroring its path in reverse down his left shoulder.  "Buffy…" he groaned, only to be silenced by her lips covering his, a firm caress sucking out what little air he had in his lungs.  He longed to reach up, entangle himself in those blonde waves, pull her into the kiss harder…deeper…

"You didn't think I'd just let psycho-witch get away with Lindbergh-ing my favorite Spike, did you?" she whispered, her mouth suddenly only millimeters from his ear.  The sharp tip of her tongue swept along the ridges, and her teeth nipped at the cartilage of its upper arch, sending licks of flame down the vampire's spine.

"We don't…have that much…time…" he gasped.

In a flash, she was straddling him, her hair hanging over her shoulder and tickling his chest.  "Then I better be quick with this," Buffy murmured.  He didn't know when she had removed her pants---or his, for that matter---but there was no mistaking her wetness as it sucked him in, stretching around his girth, devouring him in one ravenous swoop.  He waited for her inevitable slide back up…but it never came.

"She didn't lay a hand on you, did she?" the young woman asked, holding him deep inside.  "Give me a reason to hurt her."

He chuckled.  "Not yet, luv," Spike said, his voice barely above a whisper.  "She seems to be waitin' for somethin'."

"I know what I'm waiting for," Buffy replied.  Her head lowered and she brushed a feather-soft kiss across his mouth, her hazel gaze never breaking from his.  "I love---."  

Her words choked off with a gurgle, and Spike felt the warm splash of her blood on his face.  He couldn't move, but the panic rose in his throat like bile as her body slumped against his, the pounding of her pulse already starting to fade, the glint of the scattered moonlight reflecting off the knife in her back…

*************

"…Buffy!"

His scream ripped through the heavy musk of the stable as he bolted upright, his nerve endings racing as if he'd just sparred with the devil himself.  A dream, a dream, it was only a dream, he intoned silently, but the taste of her blood on his lips…its scent as it spattered across his cheeks…too real, it had seemed so real…Even now, he couldn't help his hands coming up, convinced that he'd still find rivulets of red etching his face.

Spike heard the witch stir on the other side of the pen and froze, hoping against hope that he hadn't woken her.  She was in a foul mood, constantly muttering under her breath about some stupid side effect of her spell before finally drifting off to sleep.  From the thick aromas in the air, the vampire finally knew where he was; she'd moved them to the Hound's quarters.  He had yet to see the dog; he could only assume it  was somewhere nearby.  This was only a temporary pit stop; the witch was exhausted and in desperate need of rest before continuing on to whatever final destination she had in mind.

"Enjoy your sleep, demon," she'd snarled.  "It'll be your last."

The pen was surrounded by the same type of containment spell that had held Spike and Buffy within the bedroom in Daymon's hold.  The vampire knew from experience that there would be no chinks in the invisible walls; still, with Celie so fatigued and her powers so diminished, there was the chance that a crack did exist.  As stealthily as the dry straw and his aching muscles would allow, he stood and found the edge of the spell behind him.  He'd do this all night if it meant getting back to Buffy…

*************

"I refuse to allow you to go alone," Giles argued.

Her arms crossed over her breasts, Buffy tilted her head as she regarded the older man with a tinge of amusement.  "Alone equals one.  Last time I checked, Slayer plus Wicca plus big scary Hound thing equals three.  I will not.  Be.  Alone."

"And if Celie is in fact with this Daymon?  Are you prepared to take them both on with so little help?"

"By that point, I'll have Spike---."

"---who could be seriously injured or even dead---."

"---who would only be a last resort anyway since neither Boris nor Natasha are demons."  She sighed.  "Trust me.  I've seen this guy.  Daymon's such a non-threat, even Benedict Xander could take him."  She deliberately avoided looking back at him as she said this.

The young man shrugged.  "It's nice to know there's at least one bad guy out there who would fall under the might of that which is me," he joked, but felt the first flicker of hope since returning to Cortina's lair.  Maybe he could actually be of some help with this kidnapper…

Giles regarded his charge, his lips pursed.  "Buffy," he said tightly, "could I possibly have a word with you?  Alone?"  He gestured to the other side of the stream.

The Slayer rolled her eyes.  "Because of course, now, alone can equal two," she commented, but stepped past him anyway, walking slowly around the edge of the water and away from her group of friends.

Watching Giles follow after the young woman, Cortina stepped up to the group of friends.  "OK, let's dish," she said brightly.  "Anyone care to fill me in on the details of this little prophecy that's got Rupert so hot and bothered?"

Willow glanced over at the demon.  "He didn't tell you?"

"He was a little distracted by my…books," she replied, her pale blue eyes dancing mischievously.

Anya reached into her bag and pulled out the Tract of Telemus.  "Be careful," she said as she handed it over.  "It's quite old and very valuable."

Cortina turned it over in her hands, before beginning to flip through the pages.  "You're kidding, right?  Please tell me you didn't pay a fortune for this."

"Well, I'm…not sure," Anya stumbled.  "Why?  It's not a fake, is it?"

"Oh, no, it's the real deal.  It's just not a very good copy."  She held it up to her nose, sniffed delicately at the papyrus.  "Someone's rebacked it, there's foxing in the Middle Ages section, and…"  She took another whiff.  "…at some point, it's been buried with a Plasonian demon."

Xander let out a low whistle, leaning over to whisper in Willow's ear, "Someone more freaky-deaky about books than Giles?  Who'd of thunk it?"

"But the p-p-prophecies are still right, aren't they?" asked Tara.  

"Well, as right as they're going to be for a manic/depressive with a god complex," Cortina shrugged.  "Where's the one about Buffy?"    Taking the text, not quite so gently this time, Anya turned to a page toward the end of the tome before handing it back.  The white demon grimaced.  "Crappy picture."

Willow nodded.  "It's not high on the Buffy lovin' scale, either."

The demon read out loud,

"…And Chosen is the Chalice,

To war, with passion, with strength,

Then to devour, with equal fortitude

As the demon possesses her

Body, soul, spirit.

Radiance quickening,

For the cleansing of the impure calls forth the vermin

Who cling to evil's underbelly,

Feeding from the Chalice

As she rains a shower of death.

And those she loves will burn."

She was quiet for a moment, a tiny line between her brows, and then, "Huh."  Glancing up, her eyes went to the Watcher across the stream, and Cortina repeated, "Huh."

"You only think it's huh-worthy?" quizzed Xander.  "I know you're not part of the usual Slayer cortege, so maybe you're not as bothered by the burning loved ones as we are, but you still seem a little blasé about the whole Buffy raining death thing."

Very slowly, the white demon closed the book and handed it back to Anya.  "I'm sorry," she said, distractedly.  "It's just…if I didn't know better---."  She was interrupted when one of her horned lieutenants came scuttling out of nowhere and began whispering in her ear, its guttural dialect lost on the young people surrounding her.  Her translucent blue eyes widened, then darkened in anger, and she turned a flushed face back to the Scoobies.  "Please, I must excuse myself," she apologized, before rushing off after her guardsman in a white flurry.

The quartet stood there, looking around at each other awkwardly.  "So," Anya finally said, "how much do you think the book is actually worth?"

*************

She didn't know how to describe it…a cross between worried Watcher and angry Giles, perhaps?  With a little of reluctant Rupert thrown in on the side for just a bit of flavor.  She watched as he chewed on the ends of his glasses, his left hand tucked under his right arm, those lined blue eyes staring down at her.  "So…" Buffy said, desperate to break the silence.  "It's been my experience that lectures usually involve some form of oral interaction, normally of the talking kind, although sometimes of the shouting.  I do believe this is my very first reprimand of the mime variety."

"I'm not angry."  His voice was clipped, even more so than usual, and the young woman felt the familiar ache of guilt as she averted her eyes.  "Is there…anything you wish to tell me?"

He was giving her the perfect opportunity.  He knew it.  She knew it.  And yet…the Slayer's throat constricted, the words strangled before they could even be uttered.  Why was this so difficult?  She silently laughed.  Hell, if she couldn't say the words to Spike, there was no way she could say them to Giles.  Maybe it was a them-being-British thing.  "I just want you to know that I know what I'm doing here," she finally said.  "You have to trust me."

"I do," he murmured.  "I always have.  But that doesn't stop my worrying."  He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes.  "I'm not blind, Buffy.  I know something has happened to you over the past few days, something you're choosing to keep to yourself, for some inexplicable reason.  I'm not going to demand that you divulge your little secret.  What I am going to do, however, is insist that you listen to my expertise when I say that refusing additional aid is both rash and foolhardy, and will most likely cause someone their life."

Deep down, in that place she kept locked away from outside eyes, the Slayer knew he was right, that not allowing the gang to help her was both risky and desperate.  But to agree, to let them in, meant…sharing Spike…when she'd only just discovered him for herself…

"When this is all over," she said, "I promise you that I will explain everything."  She forced herself to meet his blue gaze.  "You won't like it, and you'll probably go Daddy Dearest on me, but I'll tell you anyway.  Because you deserve to know the truth, more than anyone else."  She took a deep breath, steadying her racing nerves.  "For now, as long as you agree that we get Spike first, I'll let you play Kirk and be all ordery.  I'll even listen," she finished with a smile.

"Thank you," he murmured, his face relaxing only slightly at the concession.  "I don't want you to think I'm against trying to help Spike," he found himself adding as she began to turn away.  Her hazel eyes came back to his.  "He has proven…useful on a number of occasions."

Buffy's lips curled slightly.  "Yes, he can be…useful," she agreed.  "Did I mention he helped me get over the fever?"

"Yes.  Yes, you did."  Just go ahead and tell me, Giles begged silently.  Put us both out of our misery.

"And of course, he's been a tremendous asset when it comes to the whole Hound thing."  She was babbling now, more out of relief to be past the Spike issue for the moment than anything else.    "Oh, and he was the Sherlock when it came to the cave Cortina's men found us in.  You know, for a demon, she seems pretty cool.  I haven't really figured her out yet, but at least she's nice enough about it.  Don't you think she's nice, Giles?"

At the mention of their hostess' name, Rupert colored slightly and hastily replaced his glasses.  "Very," he said quickly, too quickly really, but Buffy was too distracted to notice.  "Perhaps we should rejoin the others.  Revisit our plan of attack."

Anything to avoid this topic, he thought.

*************

"Where's Cortina?" Buffy asked as they returned to the group.

"Off on demon business," Xander explained.  

"Right.  Well, we've decided to opt for a new strategy," Giles said, ignoring the knowing glances passing between the younger people.  "Rather than---."

"Ssshhhh!"

All heads swiveled to look at the Slayer, who now stood stock-still, her body rigid, her eyes fixed on nothing as she strained to listen, to confirm or deny the…What had it been, a scratching…a rasp?  The Scoobies held their breath as she stretched her senses, hoping to…

And there it was again.  A dryness, rustling in the cave's void, somewhere off to her left.  Slowly, Buffy reached into her Watcher's duffel, extracting the crossbow he had ready there.  "Don't move," she whispered, not even looking at her friends, her gaze intent instead on sweeping the various exits that spanned the area from which the sound had emanated.  "Eeny, meeny, miney, moe," she murmured, and took a step forward, arming the crossbow without even looking at it.  "Somewhere out there's a demon 'ho."

She stopped, struggling to narrow her field of choices, eyes dancing from arch to arch.  It was there, she could feel it in her bones, and she only had to be patient, wait for it to make its presence known.  Inside her head, a tiny giggle bounced around.  Nice to know the Slayer equipment still works, she thought happily.

Five…ten…thirty seconds stretched into a minute, and Buffy began to wonder if maybe she'd been mistaken.  It still felt like something was out there, but there were no more sounds, no more clues as to its whereabouts.  Maybe it's just one of Cortina's guys, she thought.  Maybe with all this worrying about Spike, I've just gone into overload and one of those guards has set all this off.  The crossbow perched on her shoulder lowered, and she half-turned to face the Scoobies, a sheepish smile of apology ready and waiting.

"Sorry, guys," she said.  "Don't know what got into me…"  Her voice trailed off as she took in Willow's eyes, wide as saucers…Anya, clutching desperately at Xander's arm…Giles, arm flung out to his side in some half-assed attempt to shield Tara…All of them were staring off to Buffy's left.

Looking back seemed to take forever.  When she had, she felt her heart sink to her boots.  There, in the central exit, it stood.  Seven feet tall if it was an inch…why are all these demons so damn big? the Slayer thought irrationally.  It wasn't a man, although it walked erect.  It wasn't a snake, although it had a tail on it that dragged along behind for almost five feet before disappearing around a bend in the corridor.  Perhaps the closest equivalent would be some type of lizard, scaled in a deep brownish-green, black reptilian eyes staring coldly directly at her.  No tiny limbs for this one, though.  Arms as heavily muscled as a professional bodybuilder's wielded an elaborate sword, its four-foot blade reflecting rainbows onto the stone walls, while the thick legs, although not quite man-sized, still made up almost half its height.

"You look so familiar to me," Buffy said lightly, raising the crossbow back up to her shoulder, trying to look more confident than she felt.  "I didn't kill a relative of yours, did I?  A mother, maybe, or a brother?  Third cousin on your father's side?"  No response, no movement.  "Although, must say, snake samurai?  Soooo B-movie."  

As her finger tightened on the trigger, the demon spoke.  "So good to see you in improved health, Miss Summers."

The Slayer froze.  That voice…so oily…slick…although with more of a hiss…Her grip relaxed on the weapon as the face of the demon melded with the face of the man in her mind's eye…

…Daymon…

To be continued in Part 23…


	13. Blood Battles

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Celie has contained Spike in the Hound's stables, while Buffy and the Scoobies have come face to face with Daymon in Cortina's lair.

*************

This was not how she'd hoped it would come down.  First of all, he wasn't supposed to be a demon.  The man who'd arranged her abduction was a too-soft, too-privileged, too-oozy Onassis wannabe, while the…thing that confronted her now was as far from that as you could possibly get.  Disabling Daymon should've been startlingly simple; this demon was lethal, with menace dripping from his every sinuous move, his every muscular curve.  She had no idea how or when this metamorphosis of his had happened, but at least one good thing was going to come of this.  Now, Buffy thought grimly, I can just go ahead and kill him.

Watcher viewed Slayer, and Giles' eyes narrowed.  It probably wasn't obvious to any of the others that she'd relaxed her hold on the crossbow, but to the man who'd spent the last five years training her, honing her skills, molding the perfect weapon against evil, the movement was as glaring as if she'd dropped it to the ground.  Somehow, she knew this demon…it knew her…and now they faced off with each other, each armed, each dangerous, both deadly.

"Probably should've warned you about that desert sun," Buffy said.  "I'd suggest a good skin cream, but I've a feeling, it's a little too late for that."

"Do not suppose that sarcasm will protect you from your destiny," Daymon elided.

"No, I'm thinking that killing you is going to do that for me just fine," she retorted, her finger simultaneously squeezing the crossbow's trigger.

The arrow whistled through the air, a featherweight missile slicing toward its target.  Its aim was true and sure, and by all rights, should've embedded itself deep into the demon's flesh.  Instead, the sword came up, deflecting it in a single lightning move, causing the arrow to ricochet harmlessly into an adjoining corridor.

The surprise in Buffy's eyes caused Daymon to chuckle.  "I am afraid you won't find me quite as…sluggish as I was in my human form," he said.  He swung the blade lazily in front of himself, criss-crossing the air with an ominous swish.

The Slayer let the weapon drop to her waist.  His reflexes were incredible; she hadn't even seen the sword move.  If he could do that every time, this sort of attack would never work.  "So do you still go by Daymon?" she chatted.  "Or do you have some special demon name I should call you?"  As she spoke, Buffy casually maneuvered herself between her adversary and the Scoobies, serving as a shield in case he chose to target them next.

Her action did not go unnoticed.  "Your friends do not have to be at risk," the demon oozed.  "Give yourself over to me right now, and they can simply walk away unscathed."

Buffy brightened.  "Really?  Why didn't you just say so?"  She swiveled to face the gang.  "You heard him.  Don't wait up for me."  With a liquid motion, she tossed her weapon at Giles, who caught it single-handedly in mid-air, a frown worrying his brow.  His mouth opened to argue with her, only to snap shut as…

…she feinted left, then broke into a run around the far side of the scaled demon.  Godzilla may be fast with the weapon, she'd decided, but there's no way he could match her on foot.  If she couldn't kill from a distance, then it was better to be up close and personal…

Although she'd skirted him on the side opposite his sword, the Slayer hadn't anticipated the length of his tail emerging from the corridor, swinging around to slam into her abdomen, sending her flying against the stone wall.  The dust from the ceiling crumbled into her hair as it cracked behind her, and she landed on her feet, winded and slightly sore, but still vertical.

"I don't wish to hurt you," Daymon explained.  "This will be much easier for both of us if you'd just come quietly."

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head.  "Always been a Big Bang kind of gal."  And gotta remember to avoid that tail, she reminded herself.

Launching herself through the air, the Slayer angled her leg into a kick, twisting her body so that she could connect with his jaw from above and to the right.  It worked, snapping his head in a clean jerk, but not before the sword had come up, its tip slicing her calf, drawing a thin line of blood.  Buffy rolled away, sweeping her foot beneath his, sending him to one knee as she crouched just out of his reach.

They regarded each other warily.  The heady aroma of the blood trickling down the Slayer's leg ignited Daymon's senses, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, nostrils flaring in hunger.  "I find myself jealous of your vampire," he said thickly.  "He is most fortunate to have tasted the Chosen One."  His eyes flicked over the Scoobies behind her.  "I do not see him among your friends.  Perhaps your attempts to save Spike's life were for naught after all.  Was it worth his feeding from you only to watch him die anyway?"  Although he knew the blond vampire had survived long enough to at least be captured, the demon also suspected that the topic of Spike---his feeding, his potential demise---might be enough to spur the young woman into making a mistake by acting rashly, in the heat of anger.

The flush crept up her neck, warming her cheeks.  She knew what he was attempting, and the frustrating thing was, it was working.  Between flashes of worry about her lover's safety and the growing fear about her friends learning the truth, Buffy's emotions threatened to overwhelm her.  Only one way to stop thinking about it, she thought, and threw herself into the battle.

"Wow," breathed Willow, her eyes wide at the new revelation.  Around her, the group was frozen, each in his or her own personal shock at the demon's admission, as they watched the combat unfold before them.  

For Xander, the surprise was combined with a slight sense of relief as the real reason for Buffy's emphatic reaction to his betrayal unveiled itself.  Somehow, some way, she reciprocated some if not all of Spike's feelings.  She had to; that was the only way she would ever allow a vampire to feed from her.  Her past with Angel only proved that.

Even though they knew about the Slayer's true feelings, the two witches were as stunned as their companions.  After the debacle with Riley, they would've expected any association with humans feeding vampires to have turned her off.  However, the demon had said that it had happened as an attempt to save Spike's life.  Did Buffy's feelings for him really run that deep?

It was her Watcher who was the hardest hit by the news.  As much as he may want to deny the existence of any positive feelings between his charge and the ex-Big Bad, Giles knew that that possibility was now out of the question.  To share in such an intimate exchange, to risk her future as well as her own life, Buffy had to love the vampire more profoundly than anyone suspected.  He had no idea how it had happened; the two had been fighting like cats and dogs since Spike's first arrival in Sunnydale, trading barbs and punches with more passion than any other enemy she had faced.  Even after he was chipped, her fervor in dealing with the demon hadn't diminished, and, on more than one occasion, the Watcher had noted with pride that she refused to allow herself be taken in by Spike's somewhat domesticated behavior.  Still…

He watched the pair fight at the other end of the grotto.  Although Buffy was getting her hits in, dodging Daymon's direct blows, he was still managing to reach her with the sword every once and a while, creating little nicks---one on her arm, another on her shoulder---and drawing just enough blood for her to feel it.  He seemed slightly staggered by the force of the Slayer's attack, but he had yet to take any serious damage.  In fact…

Giles' eyes narrowed.  If he didn't know better, he almost would have believed that the scaled demon was merely playing with the young woman, forcing her to tire herself out before going in for the kill.  He'd claimed not to want to hurt her, and as much as he didn't want to believe it, the Watcher thought that it might actually be true.  Perhaps that would work to her advantage…

*************

There had been nothing.  Sagging against the wall of the pen, Spike's head dropped into his hands and he closed his eyes as the reality of his prison sank in.  The witch had made it impenetrable, and without the amulet they'd used to escape Daymon's, there was no way he was going to be able to get out on his own.

"Did you honestly believe that I would allow you to escape after everything I have gone through just to get you here?" 

Celie's deep voice jerked Spike to his feet.  There was no way he was going to let the bitch see him in such a vulnerable position, not while there was still the possibility of his getting away.  "Can't blame a bloke for trying."  

Her face darkened in rage.  "It's disgusting," she spat.  "How she can allow herself to consort with you, I don't understand.  Humans and demons do not mix.  This Slayer of yours is an abomination of nature---."  She cut herself off as his game face slid into view, a snarl curling his lips.  He stared at her, golden eyes glittering, daring her to continue, and she found herself shrinking back in spite of the knowledge that he was both contained and that he couldn't hurt her even if he wasn't.  

"Don't."  His single-word warning chilled the air, and Celie felt the familiar shiver of hatred down her spine.  

"I will be glad when I am finally rid of you," the witch managed.

His eyes narrowed.  "Yeah," he drawled.  "About that…"  He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit up.  "I thought your boss had it hot for Buffy.  Why the hell are you dragging my undead ass back to him?"

"This is not for Daymon.  I captured you for my own purposes."

His eyebrow lifted in amusement as his game face disappeared.  "Really?  Didn't know I was that interestin'.  Must be the English thing.  You birds are always suckers for the accent."

It was all she could do not to contain her revulsion at his attempts to charm.  "Don't flatter yourself, demon.  I only want your blood."

He hesitated as he lifted the cigarette to his lips.  "I do hope you're bein' all figurative," he said, taking a drag.  "'Cause I don't see you enjoyin' the whole vampire gig."

This time, she smiled.  "No, I'm very much interested in your literal blood," she explained, a smug note of satisfaction in her voice.  "It will serve a very special purpose."

"Only one thing a vamp's blood is good for," said Spike, exhaling a long stream of smoke.  "And, hate to break it to you, but siring you is at the bottom of my Christmas wish list."

Her laughter filled the close space of the stable.  "I do so look forward to proving you wrong."  Celie's black eyes grew darker.  "Your ability to walk this plane for over a hundred years will serve me well.  I am convinced that the power in your lifeforce will be more than sufficient for my needs."

He had no idea what the witch was talking about, only that the certainty in her expression was more frightening than any words she might utter.  What did she know that he didn't?  After a century of living the high and low life of a vampire, Spike could've sworn that he had it all figured out.  Drink, kill, torture, mayhem…an existence based on violence…creating others when the mood struck…his blood could serve no other purpose…

His face tightened as the memory flickered into his consciousness.  "That's…a myth," he said cautiously.

"_Was_ a myth."  There was no mistaking her glee.  "After so many years of studying, learning everything I could about magic and about vampires, I have finally managed to discover the means to make your existence worthwhile.  And the answer lies in your blood."

"Can't be done," Spike said, grinding out his cigarette under the heel of his boot.  "Better witches than you have tried and failed.  You will, too."

"We shall see.  And when it is all over, my…diversion will be easily forgiven.  Daymon will understand that I had to forsake my responsibilities for the greater good."

He watched her out of the corner of his eye.  "For bein' so pissy about my kind mixin' with yours, you seem awful eager to be pleasin' the boss man."  Her confusion at his meaning was written across her eyes, and Spike almost laughed as he realized that she really had no idea.  "This is just rich," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.  "Here you are, throwing a wobbler that me and Buffy have this thing goin', while over in the red corner, you're tossin' around your respect and admiration for a different demon who's actually got---I'm sure---diabolical motives when it comes to the Slayer."

"Demon?  I don't…Daymon isn't…"  She didn't know what to think.  He wasn't actually suggesting that…

"…he may look like a man, he may talk like a man, but somewhere under the George Hamilton tan lies the heart of a demon.  Oh, he keeps it hidden well, but it's there.  I smelled it on him…"  His voice trailed off.  Bollocks, he suddenly thought.  I never told Buffy.  In the barrage of events from their escape to his capture by Celie, it had somehow slipped his mind.  Inwardly, he groaned and wondered, how is she going to fight him if she doesn't know what he truly is?

*************

She didn't want to admit it, but it wasn't going well.  Although she was landing the occasional solid blow, too many were just sliding past, or dodged completely, and Daymon was having far too good of luck with that blade of his.  Too many cuts now graced her body, and although the vast majority of them were superficial, it was really too soon since her recent incapacitation for her to be really at her best.

Buffy dodged another swing from the sword, and rolled out of his reach for a quick assessment.  Scoobies safe albeit stunned into silence…Slayer still in one piece…samurai snake still armed and dangerous…entrances still…

Her eye caught a flash of white within the far entrance, and it was all she could do not to jerk her head around for a solid look.  She could hear the dull thud of feet scurrying along the cave's corridors, and felt a glimmer of hope for the first time since starting this skirmish.  

The sounds were not lost on Daymon's sensitive ears, either.  His scaled head turned in time to see Cortina appear in the opening, a horde of men just behind her.  They scattered around the grotto, leaving their mistress alone where she stood.  "I don't appreciate uninvited guests," she said coldly, "especially those who leave behind the dead bodies of my men."

Daymon sneered.  "This does not concern you, Vrolek."

"These are my friends.  Of course it concerns me," and with that, she threw her head back and opened her mouth.

Her shrill scream pierced the air, causing everyone except her own men to clap their hands over their ears, trying to mute the cry cutting into their spines.  Even the scaled demon was affected, and he shrank away from her, hoping distance would achieve what his hands could not.  In a last ditch attempt to silence the penetrating shriek, he flung his sword directly at the white demon.

It sailed through the grotto, impaling Cortina in a single graceful stroke, and she went flying against the wall behind her.  Her scream became gurgled before trailing off, and she slumped to the ground, the blade sticking out her back.

"Cortina!"  The roots that had bound Giles' feet to the floor disappeared, and he raced to the far entrance and the white demon's side.  With two hands wrapped around the hilt, he struggled to pull the sword from her stomach, listening to the sucking sound of her blood as it finally gave way, letting it fall to the ground as he knelt down to lift her head up and nestle it in the crook of his left arm.  The red was flowing freely, staining the ivory of her robe, and he pressed his free hand against the wound, trying to staunch the tide.

The white demon's eyes fluttered open, and a wan smile curled her lips.  "Ever the gentleman," she murmured.

"Just hold on," Giles encouraged.  

Willow appeared at his shoulder, her face tight with worry.  "Can I do anything?" she whispered.

The Watcher was about to respond when Cortina interrupted him.  "My library," she said softly.  "I have…medicinal herbs…"

Very gently, Rupert laid the female down on the ground.  "Watch her," he ordered the young redhead and dashed for the appropriate tunnel.

Buffy knew that this was her chance.  Daymon still reeled from the aural assault and now, he had no weapon outside of his own two hands.  Well, and that tail, of course.  A powerful leap into the air brought her down on his back, and she pulled him over onto his side, rolling and mounting him so that his upper torso was pinned underneath her muscled thighs.  Mercilessly, she began pummeling him…punch after punch…her face tight with anger and determination.  

At first, he struggled, but as her attack became more vicious, the struggling grew weaker, less focused, until finally, he was just taking her hits, his head swinging back and forth as each fist connected with his face.  Seeing that the scaled one was no longer a serious threat, Cortina's men rushed in, using their blades to weaken him even further.

When he felt the Chosen One's hands grasp either side of his head, Daymon knew that he was too drained to fight her further.  "I am _sooooo_ going to enjoy this," she said, and he felt her tiny hands tighten their grip.  Desperate times…

"Kill me," he rasped, his tongue thick in his mouth, "and your vampire dies as well…"

To be continued in Part 24…


	14. Deal with the Devil

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Daymon has told Buffy that killing him will kill Spike, and Celie has learned about her employer's true demon nature.

*************

His words curled icy tendrils around her heart, squeezing it, freezing her muscles with terror.  She so wanted to just give a quick twist, to be rid of the demon once and for all, but his threat stayed the Slayer's impulse.  Spike's with the witch, she tried convincing herself; killing Daymon won't do anything but erase at least one problem from this mess that is my life.  But if that was true…why couldn't she just go ahead and do it?

Her hesitation was the opening he needed, the one he was hoping for.  "I can take you to him," he hissed.  "Before Celandia …"  He let the thought trail off, allowing Buffy to fill in the blanks herself.

"And see, here I thought you were going to offer something of the useful variety," she said coldly.  "We already---."

"---know where he is, yes…"  His forked tongue darted out, licking his lips.  "But can you reach him in time?  Can you travel fast enough, find where Celie has him quick enough…?"  When he tried to shift underneath her, the young woman's grip on his head tightened again, and he chuckled.  "Kill me, Miss Summers, and you will never know.  Could you have saved your vampire if you'd accepted my offer?  Will nightmares of his death haunt your sleep, even after you've died?"

Against her will, Buffy's eyes widened as sudden images of a tortured Spike flooded her mind.  Blood dripping from open wounds…those deep blue eyes drowning in pain…his lips screaming her name… "I can't accept an offer that hasn't been made," she said tightly. 

Through his pain, Daymon smiled.  "Such an intelligent young lady you are," he crooned.  "I do so regret not having the opportunity to spend more time with you."

"Enough of the charm school routine.  What's your offer?"

"A trade."  His gaze was steady.  "You spare my life and let me go.  In return, I guarantee to deliver you to your vampire before Celie has…disposed of him."

*************

"I don't understand," Xander whispered.  "What's Buffy doing out there?  Why hasn't she killed him yet?"

Tara squinted, peering around the horned demons who were now effectively blocking her view.  "I think she's talking to him."

"Talking?"  The young man took a step forward, only to be held back by his girlfriend's hand on his arm.  "This isn't talking time.  This is supposed to be killing time."

"I'm sure she'll get around to it any minute now," Anya comforted. 

*************

"I don't even know why I'm listening to you," Buffy said.

"Because you don't want to risk losing your…Spike…" Daymon responded.  "Tell me…do you love him?  He loves you, you know.  He wears it as a badge of honor for those who care to notice."

Her cheeks flushed.  "What my feelings are, are none of your business!" she snapped.  "This is probably just a bluff anyway.  I'll bet you don't even know where he is."

"At my ranch, of course."  Silently, he thanked every demon god in existence that he'd waited to approach long enough to overhear their conversation about the vampire.  "And who else but the ranch's owner would make a better, faster guide?"  He saw the doubt return to her eyes and pressed his advantage.  "Tick, tock, Miss Summers.  The longer you wait, the more likely you'll find that your vampire has joined the winds of the desert…"

There was no reason for Buffy to trust him.   Daymon had spent so many resources just trying to find her in the first place for this cleansing thingamajig; why did she think that he would suddenly walk away from that?  But the answer lay between her own two hands, and she stared down at the black slits of his eyes, knowing that it would only take one twist to kill him.  It was his life he was bargaining with, and it certainly didn't seem that any ritual was worth that to him.

And then there was Spike.  Sexy, smart, seductive Spike.  Her thighs warmed just at the memory of his face…that strut of his when he walked into a room, owning it as no one else could…his biting sarcasm that cut to the bone with its truth…the way his eyes softened when he spoke her name…He had proven himself over and over again these past few days, giving without asking for anything in return.  Hell, he'd made the trade with the witch without blinking an eyelash, his life for Buffy's, and here she was waffling?  

"This happens on my terms," she said firmly.  "Any resistance from you on that, and you'll be dead before you can blink."  The smile that spread across the demon's face was the only response she needed.

*************

Rushing down the corridor, Giles pushed his glasses back onto his nose, readjusting the box under his arm as it started to slide from his grip.  Finding Cortina's herbs had been relatively quick; navigating his way through this endless maze of stone walls had not.  He'd lost track of how many times he'd come face to face with yet another dead end, only to have to double back and try and pick up his path.  Even now, he was beginning to fear that he was taking too much time to return, that the white demon would already be dead, that his Slayer may have already been vanquished by Daymon, that in fact, the entire Scooby gang had been slaughtered…

He rounded the corner and skidded to a halt to avoid running right into Cortina's prone form.  Dropping to his knees, Giles placed the box between himself and Willow, asking, "How is she doing?"

"She's still alive, thank you for asking," Cortina replied. 

The Watcher looked down into her face.  Her pale skin was taking an ashy tone, and there were lines around her eyes…eyes that were already starting to cloud and darken.  He did his best to offer her a brave smile.  "I'm afraid I don't know your physiology well enough to know which herbs to bring, so I brought them all," he said, opening the box and showing her its contents.

When the demon struggled to lift herself up onto her elbows, Giles slid his arm under her shoulders, raising her just enough to peer into the container.  Her thin fingers picked through the various plants and packets, extracting first one purplish branch, then several multi-colored leaves, before handing them over to Rupert, the trembling in her hand apparent even to Willow behind him.  "The violet one is b'taka root," she explained.  

The line between the Wicca's worried eyes deepened.  "But that's poisonous," she said.

"Only to humans," Cortina elaborated.  "You need to…rub it around the edges of the wound.  The oil in the bark interacts with the oil on my skin and cauterizes it."  Her eyes blinked once…twice, and both Giles and Willow could see her struggling to even out her breathing.  After a moment, they fluttered open again, fixing on the Watcher.  "The other herbs need to be eaten, but in a specific order, or they won't work. But we have to…stop…"  Her voice got cut off by the sudden cough that shuddered throughout her body, a wet hacking sound that made Rupert want to wince in empathy.  The sudden spreading of crimson across the abdomen of her robe, however, sharpened his attention, and he stiffened, clearing his throat.

"…the bleeding," he finished.  He handed the leaves over to his companion.  "Hold these," he instructed.  "Give them to her as she needs them."

Right, he thought.  First step, get to the wound.  His hands hovered over the fabric of her robe and Giles found himself hesitating as he realized he was going to need to rip it from those very curves that he'd been admiring only an hour earlier.  Don't be a bloody idiot, he chided silently.  She's a demon, nothing more, and she needs your help, so get off your ass and get to it.

Efficiency crisped his movements as the Watcher's nimble hands tore the ivory material, laying bare the gaping injury as it continued to bleed, scarlet rivulets dripping down the curves of her sides, pooling in the small of her back.  Laying one palm above the gash, he held her torso still as he slowly drew the flattest part of the root around the wound.  

The reaction was immediate.  Before his and Willow's eyes, the edges of the cut burned and sealed, staunching the flow of blood with an audible sizzle.  His blue eyes flickered up to her face, and Rupert was surprised to see Cortina's own gaze fixed on him, her jaw locked in determination.  The realization that the white demon was in agony, that she was bearing the pain in silence, only augmented his growing respect for her.  "Now…the feathery leaf…" she murmured.

The redhead placed the herb on Cortina's waiting tongue, and together, she and Giles watched as the wounded demon chewed it slowly, grimacing as she swallowed.  "Tastes like…medicine," she joked, before opening her mouth for the second.  As she waited for the remedies to take effect, her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing slowed.  

Absently, the Watcher reached out and pushed the long white hair off the demon's forehead, his long hand cupping her cheek for a brief moment before pulling away.  Willow's gaze darted between the older man and their patient, and she bit her lip in amusement, busying her hands with the box.  Maybe the earlier flirting had led to something more in the library, she thought mischievously.  It's about time.  Giles really needs a girlfriend.

The color in Cortina's face heightened, returning to its normal shade of ivory, and she opened her eyes to look up at the duo.  Her lips lifted into a smile.  "You're cute when you play nursemaid," she directed at Giles.  

His responding blush was the only impetus he needed to settle back onto his heels.  For the first time, he noticed the overwhelming quiet in the grotto, and he swiveled to look around.  "Where's Buffy?" he queried, slowly rising to his feet.

Willow scrambled up behind him, watching as Rupert stepped out to look around the edges of the stream more intently.  "Well…um…" she stuttered, and flinched when he whirled to face her.

"And where's Daymon?" he demanded.

"They're…well, they both kind of…"  The redhead flushed at the anger and worry in the older man's voice.  "They left," she finally managed.

Marching to the other Scoobies, Giles glowered as he grabbed the duffel and began digging through it.  "What happened?" he said through gritted teeth.

Xander exchanged a look with Willow as she came up on the Watcher's heels.  "There was a fight.  Buffy won."

"So Daymon is dead, then?"  His tone softened slightly as he pulled out the bandages he'd been searching for.

"Not exactly."  The younger man edged away, pressing himself closer to his girlfriend.  "More like in chains."

"And she just left with him?"

"She said they were going for Spike," Anya piped up.  "That snakey demon thing was pretty beat up, plus she had its sword so at least this time she's armed."

Absently, Giles handed the bandages in his hand to Willow.  "Go wrap Cortina's wound," he ordered.  He turned to the remaining gang members.  "Get your things together.  We're going after her."

As he turned away, the Watcher was stopped by Xander's grip on his arm.  "Hang on there," Harris said.  "I've got an idea…"

*************

The click as she returned the receiver to its cradle seemed to boom in the empty office, and she froze, waiting to see if her presence had been detected.

…Silence…

His cologne still permeated his workspace, hanging in the air like thousands of fingers massaging her senses, and Celie found herself reluctant to leave behind the reminders of her employer.  The vampire's accusation still rankled; how Spike could ever conceive of the notion that Daymon was such a monster was beyond her comprehension.  After eight years of working for the Greek, she knew he was a man of upstanding moral character, fair and just to his staff, a lover of the aesthetically pleasing.  It was unthinkable he could be a demon.

But still…Her hand hovered over the doorknob.  His zeal in finding the Chosen One had bordered on the fanatical.  How many dead ends had he dragged her on…Iceland…Moscow…Jamestown…the list seemed endless, each failure only strengthening his resolve.  In all that time, she'd never questioned why, never doubted the virtue of his quest, but if she'd been mistaken, if her loyalties had been misplaced…Perhaps a quick search of Daymon's office wasn't completely out of order.  She might not get this opportunity again.

His office was immaculately organized, but Celie hardly expected any differently, her employer's demand for cleanliness infamous amongst his staff.  There was little to actually be found, and the dark-haired witch was beginning to feel foolish in allowing the vampire's allegation to cloud her judgment.  About to resign her hunt, she looked down with a frown when her hand, quickly opening and closing his desk drawers, was stopped in its exploration.

Unlike the others, this drawer was locked, which in itself was curious as there were no keyholes or mechanisms to open it.  Glancing around as if she might be observed, Celie extended her index finger in the direction of the desk, her silent incantation popping the inner lock, and the drawer slid open.  Her eyes closed in relief.  Whatever had been inhibiting her magic earlier now seemed to be gone, and she'd never been more grateful for anything in her entire life.  The fear that something was sapping her strength, denying her the full range of her powers, had nearly crippled her, leaving her more helpless than she'd been in years.  She didn't want to go back to that.

The drawer was empty.  Mentally, the witch shook herself.  Of course it was empty; Daymon had nothing to hide.  It was ridiculous that she had ever considered anything else, that for a brief insane moment, she had entertained the vampire's claim.  Experience should've reminded her that demons were not to be trusted and this one especially was all talk…

*************

He kicked at the straw as he paced.  After brainstorming for what seemed an eternity, Spike finally had a germ of a plan to escape, but in order for it to work, the witch had to be present.  She'd disappeared soon after his telling her about Daymon, and though he'd kept his ear to the ground, he had yet to hear her return.  Once she did, though, he was ready for the fireworks to ensue.

He dragged deeply on the cigarette, the tip a crimson flare in the darkening shadows, and he returned to the train of thought that had been keeping him distracted from the nightmares he'd had about Buffy's death.  Prior to meeting up with Xander, the Slayer had joked about rewarding the vampire for his good behavior; although he knew he'd blown it within seconds of the whelp's syphilis crack, it didn't mean he had to stop fantasizing about what she might have done.

Reward number fourteen…That one happened in Cortina's grotto, where this time, he was the one walking in on a naked Buffy swimming in the stream.  He'd stand back, watch as she emerged from the water, golden hair dripping down her spine, stopping just as the cleft of her ass became visible.  She'd half-turn, spy him out of the corner of her eye, call out his name…

"Spike…"

He almost didn't hear her, so lost was he in his reverie.  She'd call out his name---wait…

He stopped in his tracks.  That hadn't been part of the daydream, had it?  His nose lifted…twitched as the scent of her blood drifted into the stable…and was that vanilla…?  The hints sent him reeling into the whirlwind of his nightmare, setting the nerves along his skin skittering in nervous anticipation of her weight against his, his mind racing as he tried to understand…

"Spike!"

A little louder, and no mistake this time…not a dream, most definitely real.  He got as close to the pen's wall as the spell would allow him, but he couldn't see her.  Outside maybe…He ran to the opposite wall, stared out into the clear night sky.  She _was_ here, he almost didn't believe it, but more importantly…

…Buffy had come for _him_…

To be continued in Part 25…


	15. Showdown

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Buffy has disappeared with Daymon to find Spike, and Giles is rounding up the Scoobies to go after her.

*************

Through the ether of his pain filtered the desert music, the scritching of thousands of insects both above and beneath the loosely packed dirt, the far-off cry of a hungry hawk, the dry whistle of an occasional breeze.  Normally, he would be basking in the seductive beauty of the night, but the chains he currently bore made that impossible.

She was so much stronger than he'd ever imagined; perhaps he should've been more diligent in learning more about the Slayer prior to seeking her out.  All the texts, all the prophecies…they had all only referenced the Chosen One, so when he'd discovered that the two were one and the same, there had seemed little need for further research.

In spite of his recent injuries at her hands, however, Daymon's respect for Buffy Summers was only growing.  Here was a woman of vast beauty, incredible physical prowess, a shrewd and quick mind, with surprising compassion for her enemies.  Under other circumstances, he would have enjoyed the opportunity to dally with the young woman.  Now, though, his quiescence was over.  For all her positive qualities, there was one that would prove most unfortunate for her…

The Slayer was far too trusting…

*************

He was near, that Buffy knew, although if someone had asked her how she could be so sure, the young woman would have been at a loss to respond.  How did you explain color to someone who had never seen the light of day?  Or describe wind without using your hands?  She just…knew.  Yes, part of it was because of the whole Slayer/vampire thing, but more of it was because of something…bigger…deeper…and fully beyond her capability of expression at the moment.

When she'd been sure there was no one around, Buffy had called out the vamp's name, hoping he'd hear her and shorten her search.  She hadn't expected Daymon's ranch to be so expansive, or for that matter, that he'd be so difficult, so she'd left the demon at the edge of his property, chained to a large stone outcropping.  She doubted he would escape.  Between his earlier thrashing and their breakneck traveling, he was virtually exhausted, barely putting up a fight as she'd lashed him to the rock.  What she was going to do with him when this was all over, she had no idea, but right now, it wasn't worth wasting the brainpower on.  Her priority was finding Spike.

The stables loomed in front of the young woman.  Outside of the house itself, this was the last place for her to check, and she sincerely hoped she wouldn't have to venture directly into Daymon's hold.  Running into his men was at the top of her list of things not to do, just as she hoped to avoid the witch, or at the very least, surprise her before Celie had the opportunity to use any magic.  Again.

"Spike!" she repeated, her voice barely above a hiss.

This time, she was answered by more than the night silence.  "Buffy…?"

Her heart leapt at the sound of his reply.  Strong, steady, he didn't sound as if he was hurt, or that he was worried that the witch might hear him.  Good.  Breaking into a run, she bolted for the building.

*************

Escape was at hand, he thought, Buffy's hand, to be exact.  The irony of the situation didn't escape the platinum vampire; in fact, in spite of seeing her running form disappear around the edge of the stable, Spike wasn't entirely convinced that the Slayer was there just for him.  She's probably come back with the gang to tackle the Daymon issue, he justified.  And I'm just a happy coincidence.  

Had she ever actually said anything about her feelings for him? the vamp wondered.  His mind raced over everything from the past few days.  All her words, all her gestures…every smile…every frown…they were all emblazoned in his memory, forged there from long practice of savoring what tidbits he could glean from her.  In it all, she'd never once voiced her feelings out loud.  There had never been an, "I love you, Spike," or even an, "I like you."  Innuendo, yes, a few cryptic references, but nothing concrete, nothing to suggest that he was anything more than a shag buddy, hardly worth going out of the Slayer's way to save.

Yet…she was here.   He heard her footsteps as she approached his pen, and the familiar flicker of anticipation at seeing her began its path up his gut to the cold void of his undead heart.  These were the moments he could almost swear it was beating, come to life by the sheer force of his feelings for her…his Slayer.  

Buffy stopped outside the door of his cell, knowing without having to look that this was where he was.  The sword in her hands lowered, its tip touching the floor, and she suddenly felt a butterfly of nerves tickle her throat.  Please be OK, she intoned silently.  Please…just be OK.

Hazel eyes lifted to gaze over the heavy wooden slats of the door.  He stood against the far wall, outlined in black by the streaming moonlight, and the young woman was struck yet again by his sheer physical beauty, the warming of her thighs the most natural reaction in the world for her now.  The smile that curled her mouth was genuine as she saw that he was unharmed, and slowly, she pulled open the pen door.

"Took you long enough," Spike drawled, his eyes never leaving her face.

"You try running with Excalibur strapped to your back," she quipped.  "Like you'd make better time."  Buffy began to stride forward to join him in his cell, only to be met by the resistance of Celie's containment spell, forcing her to stop and step back. Her frown was immediate, mirrored almost instantaneously on the blond vampire.  "Another spell?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Why isn't that bloody amulet working?" Spike complained.  "How many of the things does the bitch have?"

"It's not working 'cause it's not on me," Buffy said slowly.  "You have it."

He just looked at her, his head tilted.  "Well, that makes sense," he commented.  "'Cause hanging around in here's good for my health.  _You_ have the bleedin' amulet, Buffy."

"I don't!  You're the one who carried me out, remember?"

"With the talisman clutched tightly in _your_ hot little hand, if memory serves."  He crossed his arms in front of his chest.  "Lemme guess.  You left it at Cortina's."

The Slayer frowned, her mind racing as she struggled to replay the events of the past day or so.  Broke out of the bedroom…got caught in the cave…took a nap…She bit her lip as the image of the amulet on the nightstand came onto her mind's eye.  Shit.  Spike was right.

The vampire sighed.  "Guess it's back to my original plan, then."  He pulled out his lighter and waved her away.  "Better make yourself scarce.  This won't work if the witch knows you're here."

"What're you planning on doing?"

"The witch thinks I'm valuable property," he said, the unbidden pride creeping into his voice.  "She wouldn't want to lose me to a little barnfire, now would she?"

Buffy couldn't help the surprise in her face.  "You're going to set the place on fire?" she asked, dumbfounded.  "Are you insane or just incredibly stupid?"

"Look," Spike started, his hands on his hips as he stepped closer to her, "I wasn't expectin' any help from the Sunnydale A-Team, so why don't you just run off and go help out your little Scooby friends before someone turns them into little Scooby snacks.  I can take care of this myself."  He turned and began piling up a pile of straw in the far corner, doing his best to ignore her remaining presence.

"That's going to be kinda hard," the young woman said.  "None of them came with me."

"You came to try and beat Daymon on your own?  Now who's the stupid one?"

Buffy frowned.  Didn't he get it?  "I didn't come for Daymon.  I came for you."

There was a slight hesitation in his work.  She didn't…did she?  Quickly, the blond vamp resumed his gathering, hoping that she hadn't noticed how her words had affected him.  "Find that one hard to believe, Slayer.  How could you know that I was here?"

"Cortina helped me narrow down the choices.  I took a shot.  I…had to."

This stopped him, and he slowly turned his head to stare at her.  "I never asked for paybacks, Buffy."

"This isn't about settling anything."  She swallowed, the sudden lump in her throat choking her words.  "You really think I could just let you go poof without doing my damnedest to get you back?"

Spike walked forward to the pen door, halting only when the containment spell physically prevented him from getting any closer to her.  His left hand came up, pressed against it.  "You just love messin' with my head, don't you?" he murmured, the faintest hint of a tease coloring his voice.

Buffy's right hand came up to the invisible wall, mirroring the vampire's position so that their palms were level.  "It's one of my favorite body parts," she joked.  "I'm glad it's still attached."

"One of?  What other parts of me could possibly be more interestin' than my head?"

She laughed.  "Pig."

Two could play this game.  "Tease."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, luv, just call 'em like I see 'em," but his smile belied the insensitivity of his words.

His blue eyes stared down into hers, and the overwhelming urge to just blurt it out, admit it and get it over with, filled Buffy like an inflating balloon.  Do it, her inner voice urged, do it, do it, do it.  "Spike…"  C'mon, you can do this, just open your mouth and let the words come out.  "I…don't understand why you let this happen."  Chicken, she scolded herself.

"Thought I made that clear at Cort's."  God, how he wished that he could touch her, run his fingers through those golden waves, brush his thumb over those waiting lips.  For a brief second, a scorching hatred for the witch swelled inside him, shading his thoughts in black and red.  "I love you, Buffy.  I'd do anything for you.  Anything."

She knew it was true, could see it in those azure depths.  But the knowing hurt, even as much as she prized having it, because the young woman also knew that the blond vampire didn't believe it would ever make a true difference to her.  How could he, when she didn't have the nerve to share it with her friends, her family?  They'd discovered what little they knew by accident, through a third party, and although Spike didn't know about Daymon's little slip, he wasn't so blind that he wouldn't acknowledge her lack of strength when it came to facing the gang.  And he'd be right.

"Spike, I---."  She cut herself off when his head suddenly whipped around, staring back at the lone window in the pen.  Instinctively, her ears pricked, searching for the sound that had ensnared the vampire's attention.  Footsteps…soft ones…approaching the stable.  When his blue eyes turned back to meet hers, the Slayer just nodded and picked up the sword.

*************

Everything was in place.  Within the hour, she and the vampire would be on their way, and the culmination of her life's endeavors would finally be within her grasp.  Celie smiled to herself.  Sometimes, life could actually be good.

Pulling open the door to the stable, there was a definite bounce to her step as she approached the vampire's cell.  Once I've finished it all, she thought, I'll return for the Hound and for Daymon.  He'll most likely be very appreciative of what I will have done, and the Hound will forgive me for temporarily abandoning him once he gets his favorite treat.  The dog may have been an excellent hunter, but it certainly wasn't the brightest animal she'd ever worked with.

The demon was curled up in the straw in the corner, his face averted.  Must have gone back to sleep, Celie thought.  Probably just as well.  He'll be less trouble this way.  Turning away to return to her own bed, her black eyes widened at the sudden presence of the young woman.  

Before the witch could react, the Slayer's fist had drawn back and connected with her jaw.  "Just thought I'd let you know," Buffy said as Celie crumpled, "nobody touches my boyfriend but me."

*************

As he rose to his feet, Spike couldn't help the smile of satisfaction on his lips.  She'd called him her boyfriend, without any prompting, and what's more, she'd laid out her claim for someone else to hear.  OK, it _was_ just the witch, but still…The swagger in his hips as he walked up to the pen door was unmistakable.  Bugger what she thinks, he thought.  I've got every right to be chuffed to bits about this.

Buffy was bending over the prone form of the dark witch, searching through the pockets in her clothes.  As he watched, he saw her go back over the same spots, each time coming up empty-handed.  "Please tell me you actually saw her wearing an amulet," she said without turning her head.

"Well…no, not exactly."  He stiffened when Buffy glanced back at his pen, her eyes blazing.  "You ever been teleported?  Hurts like hell if you're not careful with the landing, which she wasn't.  And seein' as how I'm not really one of her favorite people, she didn't spend a whole lotta time just hangin' out."

"But then how was she expecting to get in and out?  That needs an amulet thingy, doesn't it?"

"Not if it's your spell."

The demon's voice in the entrance of the stable jolted Spike's attention from Buffy and the witch.  Scaled and snake-like, but standing like a man, the vampire didn't recognize him or his type.  However, whatever or whoever he was, the thing was big, that was undeniable.  But that voice…why did it sound so familiar?

"I guess you're feeling better," the Slayer commented, slowly rising to her feet.  The vampire watched as her eyes darted to the empty pen she'd stowed the sword.  Shit, too far away to just casually reach for it.  "Not really a chainy kind of guy, huh?"

"I don't appreciate being shackled on my own property," the scaled demon replied, "especially since I'm the one who so conveniently aided you in finding your vampire."  Again, Spike was struck with the thought that he should know this guy, that that voice was someone…

He turned wide blue eyes to Buffy.  "You came here with Daymon?  Have you gone completely barmy?"

"I needed to get here fast.  Besides, I made a deal with him---."

"Oh, because he's just _so_ trustworthy---."

"He was barely standing!"  The young woman could feel her anger rising, but had to fight the urge to turn away and face the blond vampire.  Can't let this one out of her sight, not after this little trick.  "And like I said, there were chains."  From where she stood, she could hear his snort of derision and bristled.  "And a really big rock!"

"Obviously, not big enough," Spike muttered.

"I am so sorry to disappoint," Daymon commented.  He straightened to his full height as he glided slowly into the stable.  "But I'm afraid this is your night for disappointments, my dear."

"Don't count on that," Buffy said through gritted teeth.  "I beat you once, I can beat you again."

"Yes, but you don't have your Vrolek friend here to help you this time."  The glee in the demon's voice oozed and Spike's fingers itched to tear the bastard's eyes out.  He had to settle for watching, however, as Buffy began to inch her way toward her hidden weapon.  

None of them were expecting the blast from behind the Slayer, slamming into her back, propelling her through the wooden door of the pen she'd been approaching, smashing the slats into pieces as she was thrown against the wall.  

"No!" screamed Daymon, swiveling his head toward Celie and her outstretched hands.  "How many times must I tell you, the Chosen One is not to be touched!"

The witch's eyes went wide.  No…it couldn't be… it wasn't possible…the vampire couldn't have…been right…Slowly, she rose to her feet.  "You're not…"

The scaled demon chuckled.  "You lack vision, Celandia," he accused.  "And your usefulness has just expired."  He lunged forward, ready to grapple with the young woman when her hands came up, discharging a bolt of magic, stopping his movement and sending him into a twisted heap.  

"I do not consort with demons," she muttered angrily.

"Told you so," Spike commented, leaning against the invisible wall of the containment spell.  "Didn't want to believe me, but then again, everyone has a tendency to dismiss the chipped vampire."  At the witch's angry glare, he shrugged.  "No, really, go on with the show.  I love having front row seats for this.  Not sellin' any popcorn by any chance?"

Across the stable, Buffy's eyes blinked as she struggled to sit herself up.  Gotta stop getting slammed with magic, she thought, turning her head to view Daymon and Celie facing off.  The scaled demon was rising to his heavy feet, his head low, watching the dark witch through veiled eyes.  After brawling with him earlier, she saw his move coming, anticipated his sudden charge.  What she didn't expect was the sudden flash of magic sending him flying against Spike's cell, bouncing off the containment spell, and rolling past her own.  

"You tricked me," accused Celie.  "You lied to me."

"And you use far too much magic," Daymon countered, rushing her yet again.

In spite of herself, Buffy shook her head in disbelief.  Hello, magic girl is going to hit you again, moron, she chastised silently.  Go for the hands.  But her gaze widened as he dodged past her, heading straight for the invisible wall around Spike.  Oh, nice one, she added.  Use the ricochet to get her from a different angle.

But it didn't come.  As she watched, the scaled demon crashed through the door, slowing only slightly as he met the containment spell, rolling into the dry straw on the floor of the vampire's cell.  The blond one jumped back, as surprised by his sudden guest as the Slayer was, and felt his back touch the outside wall.  He frowned.  That wasn't supposed to happen.  Tentatively, he reached forward, his hand passing through the empty space of the window, and he smiled.  Thank God for small miracles, even if they did come in the shape of big ugly snake guys…

With a roar, Spike jumped on the demon, his fury erupting in a violent rage, his fists pounding into its scales.  An incensed Daymon whipped around his tail, knocking the vampire off his back, sending him through the wall of the stable and out into the night.  "So it will be this way," he said, following him through the aperture.

Edging around the pen, the sword dangling from her hand, Buffy emerged behind Celie.  "I don't have long, so I'll make this quick," she said, lashing out with her foot.  

As before, the witch went flying through the air, landing in a pile of dry straw.  She rolled, her hands coming out to fight back with her magic.  Automatically, the Slayer spun out of the way, her head quickly darting back to look at the damage the bolt did behind her.  Except…it hadn't.

Celie looked down at her hands.  "I…don't understand," she murmured.  "My…powers…"

"I'd love to stick around and help you figure it out," the young blonde said, jumping to her feet, "but I've really got to go kick your boss' ass."  And without a glance backward, Buffy bolted for the opening in the wall.

*************

The tires squealed to a halt, sending up clouds of dust into the night sky.  "Xander!  Please!  This isn't the Grand Prix!" chided Giles from the back seat.

"Sorry," the young man mumbled, and pointed.  " But I think we've reached the end of the road."

The Watcher looked out in the direction of his finger, past the hulk of the Hound as it came to a stop beside them.  There, in the moonlight, Spike squared off with Daymon, each circling the other.  The vampire appeared unhurt, and Giles felt a wrench in his gut as he realized that this was the first time he'd seen the chipped one since learning about his and Buffy's involvement.  He still wasn't sure how to feel about the whole thing, and he could feel his reluctance staying his movement from the car.  

"You think we should get out there and help?" asked Xander, voicing what the older man was thinking.  As he spoke, however, Buffy appeared in the gaping hole left in the side of the stable.  "Then again, it looks like he's already got some."

Giles looked down at the sleeping face of Cortina in his lap, his hands absently stroking the hair away from her eyes.  "We'll…give them a moment," he said softly.

*************

He danced around on the balls of his feet, the power surging through his body.  "Haven't had a good spot of violence in ages," Spike drawled.  "Aren't you the lucky demon…"  He faked a lunge to the right, before darting left under Daymon's outstretched fist.  He laughed.  "Gonna have to do better than that, mate."

Buffy saw it coming first.  "Spike!" she called out.  "Look out for his---."  She cringed as the demon's tail swept around, knocking the vampire off his feet and flat onto his back.  "…tail," she finished.  How did he manage to fall for that one twice? she wondered.  If she didn't know better, she would've thought the vamp was losing his touch.

He would've been winded had he had any breath in his lungs to worry about.  Instead, it was his pride that was bruised, getting sent to his ass for the second time by the scaled demon, and both times in front of the Slayer.  She's going to start thinking I'm a nancy boy who can't take care of himself, he thought grimly as he rose to his feet.  All right, no more Mr. Nice Vamp, and, switching into game face, Spike jumped for Daymon's throat, his teeth bared in his best nonverbal threat.  

The bulky demon swung, grabbing the blond vampire around the throat, staying his leap with an abrupt gurgle.  "I think not," he murmured and straightened to his full height, Spike dangling from his grip, kicking and clawing at the hand holding him.  Overhead, the low roar of an engine whispered in Daymon's ears, and he turned with a smug smile to face Buffy.  "It appears that this is just not your night, Miss Summers," he laughed.

Raising the sword, Buffy took a step closer to the demon.  "You'd be surprised how often I hear that," she commented.  "You weren't really going for the whole originality prize, were you?  'Cause, have to tell you, not really feeling the threat here, seeing as how I'm the one with the big pointy sword."

"I have my own weapon."  His fist tightened around Spike's neck, causing the veins in the vampire's jaws to pulse as he struggled to get free.  "He's much like a dandelion, don't you think?  It only takes a moment for the head to just…snap off."  His black eyes narrowed.  "And I do believe that's as effective a method for slaying vampires as any other.  But, you tell me.  You're the expert."

Her face froze.  "Let him go.  He's not the one you're after."

"No, that is correct.  But he is extremely powerful bait, don't you agree?"  Daymon began gliding backwards, closer to the escalating thrum of the plane's engine.  

Buffy's hazel eyes darted up to see the faint lights of the aircraft as it coursed through its descent.  Daymon's, maybe, the one he'd been planning on using to get her to Greece?  But he'd been with her the whole time, what was it doing here now?  It didn't really matter, though, as the young woman watched it coast to a landing in the not-so-far distance, her adversary slowly creeping toward it with her lover still firmly in his grasp.

Damned if he wasn't right.  This really wasn't her night…

To be continued in Part 26…


	16. Up and Away

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Daymon is using Spike as bait to lure Buffy away, while Celie's powers have been knocked out by the arrival of Cortina and the Scoobies.

*************

Tilting her head, Buffy sighed as Daymon slithered toward the plane, his ebony slitted eyes never leaving hers.  "You do not have to come, Miss Summers," he said.  "I have no qualms about allowing Spike here to join the dust of the desert without the pleasure of your company."  As if to illustrate his point, his grip on the vampire tightened, and he chuckled as Spike kicked out, trying to loosen the hold.

"You know," the young woman said, exasperated, "these ultimatums everyone keeps giving me tonight are _really_ getting old."

As the distance stretched between them, ten yards turning into twenty, the demon hesitated.  "It is your choice after all.  He is only a vampire, albeit an interesting one."

The Slayer's eyes darted to Spike's dangling form, his muscles bulging under the t-shirt, his boots doing their best to connect with the scaled body of his captor.  Only a vampire?  God, how she wished that was true.  It would certainly make her life easier, if not very much fun.  But it just wasn't.  Spike was a lot of things---irritating, seductive, bigheaded, loyal---but _only_ a vampire was not one of them.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she muttered, lowering the sword and starting to walk toward the plane.  "I'm coming."

*************

Xander bolted upright in the driver's seat, his eyes like saucers as he took in the unbelievable sight before him.  "Uh…Giles?"

Glancing up from the white demon asleep in his lap, the Watcher stiffened as he realized what his charge was doing.  Quickly but carefully, he slid Cortina's head onto the seat and opened the door.  "Give me full beam," he ordered.  At the younger man's confused frown, he barked, "Turn the bloody brights on!"

As Giles stepped out into the sudden illumination, Buffy finally became aware of the Hound and car parked merely yards away.  She stopped, hesitating, her gaze darting between the retreating Daymon and her furious mentor rushing towards her.  Seeing the demon's eyes narrow, the Slayer held up her hand to Giles, yelling, "Don't come any further!  He'll kill him!"

The older man halted, his blue eyes blazing.  "What in the hell do you think you're doing!" he demanded.

"I think I've been working too hard lately," Buffy said.  "I feel like a little vacation, someplace warm.  Greece, maybe.  I hear they've got great beaches there."

"This is madness.  You are not getting on that plane."

"I have to.  If I don't, he'll dust Spike."  Her face softened.  "Don't worry, Giles.  Nothing's going to happen to me as long as Daymon's around.  Well, not until the ritual anyway, but I plan on killing him before then."

"He's a demon, Buffy, he's not to be trusted."

"OK, know that now, and before you say it, yes, I agree, it was stupid to leave without you guys.  But honest, this guy seriously doesn't want me getting hurt.  You should've seen how pissed he got with that Celie witch when she tried to butt in."  She frowned.  "And then her magic went all wonky.  You don't have Cortina stashed in the trunk of the Love Bug, do you?"

Giles glanced back over his shoulder.  "Actually, she's in the back seat.  Xander suggested we bring her along to neutralize any of Celie's spells.  He thought it would…help Spike."

"That was Xander's idea?"  Buffy couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice.  "He hates Spike."

"But he knows that you…don't," the Watcher replied.  He lowered his voice, opting to try a different tack as it was clear that forceful father figure wasn't going to work.  "Buffy, just…walk away.  You can end this right here, right now.  It's just Spike."

"But it's not."  She didn't know how long she had left before Daymon reached the plane, but the young woman knew that this was the time, she had to explain it to her mentor.  "If  Spike dies, part of me's going to die as well.  And I'm not real peachy-keen on that happening."

"I understand you shared a very…powerful encounter, but---."

"It's more than that, Giles.  It's…"  She couldn't help but look back at the diminishing form of the blond vampire.  The fight in him was weakening, but if it was because he was tiring or because he thought she was giving up on him, Buffy had no idea.  She turned pleading eyes back to the older man.  "I love him.  I don't know how it happened, or when, but it did, and I do.  I'm sorry, I have to do this."

He watched as his Slayer turned and began jogging toward the pair of demons near the aircraft.  The sound of her annoyed voice filtered back to him.  "Keep your pants on, I said I was coming."  The tiny forms of Daymon's men began swarming around the trio, and Giles could only shake his head as Buffy handed over her weapon, putting her shoulder under Spike's, her arm around his back, supporting him as they boarded the plane.

"Please tell me I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing, because what I think I'm seeing does not look like the happy ending we were hoping for."

Xander's presence behind him couldn't rend Giles' gaze from the ensemble in the distance.  "She loves him," he murmured.  "She's risking everything---her family, her calling, the fate of the world even---for him."

"And this surprises you because…?"  The younger man stepped around, blocking the view to the plane, forcing the ex-librarian to look at him.  "This is typical Buffy modus operandi.  She's got her own mind when it comes to affairs of the heart."  He began ticking them off on his fingers.  "She did it with Angel, hiding him when he came back 'cause she was all worried about us going Charles Bronson on him.  She stuck with Riley when we were worried about him being commando guy.  And, as much as I may really, really hate to admit it, she's going to stick with Spike on this one, regardless of anything we think or feel."

Giles watched as the plane's engines began to rev again, preparing to lift off.  "I would hardly have placed you as a member of the Spike fan club, Xander."

"I'm not," he argued.  "I'm very proud of my lifetime membership to the Anti-Bloodsucking Coalition.  I am, and always will be, ABC to the core.  But I gotta admit, I don't get the switcheroo he pulled for Buffy back at the cave.  I mean, yeah, he claims he's in love with her---."

The Watcher's blue eyes whipped away from the plane to stare into Xander's.  "Spike _told_ you he was in love with her?" he asked incredulous.  "And you believed him?"

"Well, yeah.  Apparently, us Scoobies are the only ones who don't know this tidbit of information.  Celie saw it before I did and made a point of letting me know.  That one's definitely nightmare fodder, lemme tell you."

"Cortina suggested the same thing, but I didn't want to believe her…"

The sound of the airplane lifting into the air diverted both men's attention from their conversation, and they just watched helplessly as Buffy and Spike disappeared into the midnight sky.  Giles sighed, removing his glasses, and rubbed wearily at his eyes.  "Whatever happened to old-fashioned slaying…" he muttered under his breath.  To his companion, he added, "Would you think it remiss of me if I confessed that sometimes I actually wish for the days when Spike didn't have the chip?"

Xander just looked at the Watcher, his brown eyes steady, his eyebrows raised. 

"No, you're right.  That would be a bad thing."  The older man stared off into the sky.  "I think."

*************

There seemed no logical explanation for it.  All her life, almost every waking moment, she could remember having the power, being able to command it to do bigger and greater things as she grew older, knowing that time and death would be her only bars to utter control.  Yet, here she was, sitting on a pile of hay in a malodorous stable somewhere in the middle of the California desert, and she couldn't even summon the forces necessary to levitate a simple twig.  

Celie rubbed at her exhausted eyes.  It was over now, she knew that.  She wasn't deaf; she'd heard the plane land, heard it take off again, and somehow knew that Daymon was onboard.  Her bitter smile belied the dismay of her spirit.  All her work---convincing the pilot his return was an official request of his employer's, ensnaring the vampire whose blood would have saved future generations from the horror of the demon existence---all of it was for nothing, because now she was just a mere shell of the powerful witch she had been.

Slowly, she stumbled to her feet.  Daymon---the monster---whatever he was, would most likely have alerted his men to her presence.  If she didn't wish to be captured and tortured, or worse, her best plan was to make her escape now.  Her black gaze swept over the broken pen that had recently housed Spike.  What could possibly have happened? she wondered.  Is there a stronger witch counteracting my magics nearby?  Somehow, she doubted it, but the questions still plagued her as she lurched through the opening in the stable wall.

Celie almost cried when she saw the velvet pelt of the Hound, his head resting on his front paws.  He'd managed to find her, must have followed her scent from the cave.  At last, something working in her favor.  She began to walk toward him, then stopped when she saw the redhead stroking his fur, leaning over to murmur in his ear.  But who was this?  She peered into the darkness.  The witch…from the vampire's crypt?  That would mean…

And for the first time since emerging, she noticed the car and the two men standing in its headlights, gazing into the night sky.  When she recognized Xander, she didn't know if she should feel frightened or relieved.  He would not be happy about her treatment of the Slayer, yet she also knew that he was relatively harmless.  His friends, however, were a different story.  The witch---hadn't there been another in the alley?---was a potential threat, and since Celie no longer had her powers, so was the older gentleman.  Her only hope was to get to the Hound.

*************

Willow felt the dog stiffen under her hand, his muscles tightening as his eyes slowly opened.  "Hey, guys?" she called out, not too loudly as she didn't want to disturb the Hound too much but loud enough so that she could be heard by the others near the car.  "Something's spooking Elvis."

Giles frowned.  "Elvis?  You…named it?"

"Well, yeah," Willow explained.  "I can't go around just calling him puppy.  Would you like it if we walked around calling you 'Limey?'  He needs a name."

"So, it's Elvis because…he ain't nothin' but a hound dog?"  Xander couldn't keep the sarcasm from creeping into his voice.

The witch pouted.  "I thought it was clever."  She turned back to the Hound as a low growl rumbled from its throat, and began stroking his muzzle to calm him.  "We like it, don't we, Elvis?"

"I think I know what's bugging him," Xander offered, his brown eyes fixed over the dog's shoulder.

Giles turned, and Willow peeked around the bulk of the Hound to see Celie standing near the hole in the side of the stable.  She was silent, motionless, staring directly at the one person she knew could recognize her.  Quizzically, they looked back at their friend in explanation.

"I'd say it's good to see you," Xander said to the dark witch, his arms folded across his chest, "but that would be a lie.  Please tell me the reason you look like hell is Buffy-related.  'Cause she was a little miffed about the whole pinned-to-the-wall thing.  Not to mention you disappearing with Spike.  Personally, that part didn't bother me, but, you know, Buffy's my friend.  You're not."

Celie regarded each of them in turn before responding.  "I'm only interested in recovering my charge," she said, stepping slowly toward the Hound.  When it sat up on its haunches, its hackles rising, she hesitated and frowned.

"I don't think you're one of his happy shiny people right now," warned Willow, her body edging forward as if she were trying to shield the canine from the dark witch. 

"What have you done to him?" Celie hissed.

"What've _I_ done?"  The redhead's eyes went wide.  "Hello?  News flash.  _You're_ the one who left him out in the cold, without any food or water.  You're just lucky I can't report you to Doggy Social Services."

"Girls, girls, girls!" Xander stepped forward between them, his palms held up to stop the two women from their bickering.  "We've got more important things to be fighting about right now than which one of you gets to be all love me tender with poochie here.  Or have we forgotten about Buffy and Spike and their bid for more frequent flyer miles?"

Celie stiffened.  "Daymon…took the Chosen One…with him?"

"Yep.  Got her on the plane using Spike as his gouda."  At his best friend's frown, he elaborated, "Gouda…cheese…bait…?"  He shrugged.  "Never mind, my genius is lost on you people."

"So what are we going to do with _her_?"  Willow nodded with her head toward the other witch.  "We can't just leave her here.  As soon as we get far enough away, she'll be all magicky again.  How do we know she's not going to go after Spike on her own this time?"

"We take her with us."  Giles' voice was low, but it carried through the still night air, and the trio as well as the Hound turned to look at him.  "She's not a threat as long as she's in close proximity with Cortina.  And, as much as I'd like to use…Elvis, again in locating Buffy, something tells me that his particular skills might not work under our current circumstances."  His eyes were daggers as he confronted Celie.  "You, however, _can_ help us, by telling us where he's taking her and what his plans are."

"I wasn't privy to Daymon's plan," she spat.  "My job was to find the Chosen One, that's all."

"But the plane?  Surely you know where he's taking Buffy?"  Her silence was the only affirmation he needed.  "Right, then.  Xander, make sure she doesn't have any weapons and bring her to the car."  He started to move away, but was stopped by the young construction worker's hand on his arm.

"Listen," Xander said, his voice barely above a whisper.  "Can I pass on the patting down part?"  He glanced back at the parked car.  "Last time I had to do that for Buffy, Anya thought I was getting a little too friendly-like and refused to talk to me for two days afterwards."

"I would've thought that was a good thing," Giles replied, but the earnest request in the younger man's face only made him roll his eyes.  "Never mind, I'll do it," he said.

"And about the traveling arrangements," Xander continued.  "Somebody's gonna have to walk if you want witchie poo onboard," said Xander.  "'Cause that mid-life crisis of yours ain't goin' to hold another body."

"Well, our…guest needs to stay as close to Cortina as possible," the Watcher said.  "We'll just have to ask either Anya or Tara to give up their seat."  The two men looked back at the car at the same time, then at each other.  "We'll ask Tara."

*************

It was Giles' voice she heard first as the group approached the car, and its melodic timbre sent warm shivers down her spine.  Her pale eyes fluttered open when the door opened and she looked up to see the worry etched in his face.  "Relax, Rupert," she said softly.  "I haven't died on you."  The pain in her abdomen still burned, but she chose to ignore it as she struggled to sit up.

He was aiding her in an instant, his warm hands under her arms, sliding into the vehicle so that she could rest her head on his lap again.  "You mustn't tax yourself, Cortina," he said, pushing the white hair out of her eyes.

"I hope you don't tell your Slayer that," she teased.  "That Council of yours will replace you with someone who's not such a big softie."

Giles smiled at her slight gibe.  "I think Buffy would disagree with your assessment."

"Are they all right?"  Cortina couldn't resist asking the question, even knowing the relationship between his charge and the vampire set him on edge.  "I assume they took care of that Daymon they were fighting."  She frowned as the older man averted his eyes, glancing out the front of the car, playing with her hair…anything but looking her in the face.  "What happened out there?" she asked again.

"Buffy is…fine…"

"And Spike…?"  The anxiety jumped into the white demon's face.  "Please tell me Spike's OK."

"He's…also fine…"

She took a deep breath.  "You're holding back on me, Rupert.  Just tell me what happened."

There was a long moment when the Watcher just looked at her, assessing her, before he finally answered.  "Daymon…threatened to kill Spike unless Buffy came with him.  There was…a plane.  They're both gone."

Cortina's eyes closed and she sighed heavily.  "Damn…"

"We'll get them back before the ritual.  I've just got to figure out how."

She locked gazes with him, blue to blue.  "You'd better.  Because I think you need to take another look at that prophecy…"

To be continued in Part 27…


	17. Fires That Burn

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Daymon has used Spike to get Buffy on his plane to Greece, while the Scoobies have decided to use Celie to track the Slayer.

*************

The wounds chafed, exacerbated by his cramped quarters, and Daymon began to regret not having the plane outfitted for larger occupants when he'd had the chance.  There was room in the hold, of course, but that was presently occupied, and somehow he suspected that the Chosen One would not be very welcoming of her host at the moment.

Now that he was bereft of Celie's magics, arrangements would have to be made for containment of the vampire once they reached Greece.  Rarely had Daymon seen such allegiance as that which bound Spike and Buffy, and he knew that his power over the Slayer lay in ensuring her companion's continuing health.  Before, he'd harbored suspicions regarding the true nature of their relationship; now, having witnessed the sacrifice she'd been willing to make, those doubts were banished.  It was obvious the pair were lovers, possessors of some fathomless marriage of spirit, Slayer and vampire locked in the constrictive embrace of their emotions as they fought to face the world.  It was rather romantic really, and if he were in any other place in his life, Daymon was sure that he would be among those watching the duo, engrossed in the melodrama as it unfolded.  But, his plans superseded his voyeurism, the ritual far too vital to him now to brave giving it up.

The schedule would have to be moved, of course.  Having shed the remnants of the human self he'd gained during his first attempt at the cleansing, there was nothing curbing the acceleration of the demon's disease now.  If he didn't wish to go mad in the wake of its power, the ritual must occur quickly, sooner rather than later, although with enough time for both him and the Chosen One to heal completely.  The Chalice needed to be perfect, ready to host the demon once it had been expelled from his body; if not, all of this effort would have been expended for nothing.

Although muffled through the plane's fuselage, Daymon listened to the recurring thumps and curses from the hold, a common refrain since their lift-off, and stifled the chuckle that rose to his throat.  How he wished at the moment he could be a fly on the wall, to espy the antics of his caged guests in whatever activities required such thunderous accompaniment.  At least he could be assured that at their current altitude, he didn't have to worry about their escaping…

*************

Buffy stared down at the pile of blankets on the upturned bed frame, arms folded across her chest.  "I think he meant for me to sleep on that," she said tightly.

"Well, rah rah, sis boom, too bad!" snarled Spike, as he prowled around the edges of the hold.  "Maybe you should've thought of that before you decided to hand yourself over on a bloody platter!"  He kicked at an empty box, sending it ricocheting against the metal hull.

"How many times do I have to say this?" Buffy muttered, gritting her teeth.  "He.  Was.  Going.  To.  Kill you!"

"Appreciate the sentiment, luv, but if what you've said is true and Rupes has got his research right, I don't think my life is worth having a Slayer Demon on the loose.  Granted, might be kinda fun to watch for a while, but long run?  Not a shining Buffy moment."  

As he passed her on one of his circuits of the hold, the young woman's leg shot out, sweeping across his knees, sending him sprawling to his back.  She pounced on top of him, pinning him down under her thighs.  "You wanna talk about shining moments, Spike?  I got one for you.  How 'bout when you decided to not to tell me that Daymon was really a demon?  'Cause, gotta tell you, that one could've saved us a whole boatload of trouble."

His eyes glittered as he replied.  "And exactly when do you think would've been the right time, pet?  When you were riding me like a possessed she-devil?  Or when my mouth was buried between---?"

It was habit more than anything else.  Buffy's punch connected with his jaw, wrenching the vamp's blond head sideways.  He wasn't fazed by it, his stormy gaze swiveling back to face her immediately, his nostrils flaring.  "And here I'd thought we'd moved past the Spike beating," he said smoothly.

Two spots of red appeared high on the Slayer's cheeks.  I'm not going to apologize, she thought stubbornly.  He was being crude.  Out loud, she argued, "Maybe if you could have a civilized conversation, you wouldn't have to be a punching bag."  She took a deep breath.  "I didn't get on this plane to fight with you, Spike."

"Well, you're doing a bloody good job of it," the vampire muttered.

"I think that maybe we've got some…issues we should be talking about," Buffy continued, ignoring his comment.

"Like how you were a silly bint for letting Daymon get to you?"

Her fingers curled automatically into a fist, and the young woman had to fight to control her temper.  God, he could be so infuriating!  Why did he always insist on saying exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time?  Deep down, though, she knew he honestly believed it, that he was only voicing the same argument Giles had, and that, in a certain light, yes, it could look like she had made a foolish choice.  She'd given her reasoning to her Watcher…but did she have the nerve to tell Spike to his face?  

"Let's do this rationally," the Slayer finally said, her voice too calm, too in control.  "Fact one.  We are on a plane with a demon, headed for god knows where, because he wants to use me as this Chalice thingy for his little ritual."  She held up her hand as the vamp opened his mouth to speak.  "It doesn't matter how we got here.  What matters is that we stop him before I have to start seriously reconsidering my skincare routine."

"And how do you plan on doing that five thousand feet in the air?"

She bit her lip.  "I don't know.  I haven't figured that part out yet."

Spike shifted underneath her, raising his arms and putting his hands behind his head.  "Always knew that Rupert was the brains in your bunch."

"Fact two."  Her jaw was tight as she struggled not to lose her temper.  "As much as I'm sure they're going to try, I don't think we can count on Giles and Cortina showing up to rescue us this time.  That means, we have to work together.  Just you and me.  Now I know you're pissed as hell, 'cause god knows, I'm not too thrilled by your little memory lapse either, but we can't afford to be going solo right now.  Truth is, when you're not being a total ass, we make a pretty good team.  We handled our first great escape without a hitch, didn't we?"

In spite of his anger, the blond vampire grinned.  "It had its moments.  Although next time, I think you should be the one who gets tied up."

The Slayer sat back, her ass against his hips, and noticed for the first time that he was hard beneath his jeans.  She shouldn't have been surprised; after all, her own excitement had been going strong ever since their earlier row.  The passion he ignited in her, whether they were fighting or making love, shocked her, astounded her, but more than anything else…thrilled her.  "You ever wonder how come I always end up on top?" she asked, her voice slightly husky.

Spike's eyes darkened, pupils expanding to overcome the blue, and his tongue poked out between his teeth as it ran along their edges.  "'Cause I let you," he drawled, and in a movement too quick for Buffy to counter, his fingers were digging into her hips…flipping her to the side…slamming her onto her back so that he was now the one hovering over her.  He leaned forward, his hands balling into fists and resting above her shoulders so that his chest, his lips, those eyes, were only inches from hers.  "Why'd you do it?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  "Why'd you get on the plane?"

All of a sudden, she didn't know what to do with her hands.  Her gaze was riveted on his face…the scar above his eyebrow that seemed to speak volumes without him having to open his mouth…the white velvet of his skin as it stretched taut over those cheekbones…that full bottom lip, begging to be bitten…and then there were those eyes…

Bottomless pools of liquid sapphire daring her to drown herself in their depths…an intelligence that blinked from animal cunning, to uncommon insight, to the tenderest of passions, all within the space of seconds…mirrors for the emotions that refused to hide within the safety of his skin…

The breath caught in her throat, snagging on the lump that had formed there, and Buffy felt the momentary sensation of choking as she struggled to regain control of her racing nerves.  "I told you already," she murmured.

"Slayers aren't supposed to keep saving vampires' lives."

"Why not?  You keep saving mine."

"That's because I love you, Buffy."

It hung there between them, an open invitation, and Spike found himself searching her hazel eyes for something…anything…

"…makes four…"she breathed.

The vampire frowned.  "…Four?" he questioned.

"That's how many times you've told me that since all this happened," she explained.  She finally knew what to do with her hands.  Reaching up, her fingertips glided over his jaw, down the side of his neck, skipping to his nape before entwining in the curls they found there.  

The blond vampire couldn't hide the surprise in his face.  She was…counting?  Did that mean…?  

"…I was trying to explain it to Giles," Buffy was saying.  "But he didn't get it either until I actually said it."  Slowly, deliberately, the young woman pulled his head down until his lips met hers.  

There was nothing hesitant in this kiss; she knew exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it, and damned if she wasn't going to get it.  Hungrily, her tongue forced its entrance, parrying with his for dominance, tasting the elixir that was uniquely Spike's.  She couldn't breathe---didn't really want to---the world a kaleidoscope of steel and smoke before her eyes.  Squeezing them shut, her other arm wrapped around his shoulders, coaxing him down on top of her so that he pressed her into the floor with his weight.  Buffy almost sighed with pleasure.  This was right; this was real.  Nothing else in this universe mattered, but being here…being with him…

As their mouths fought, mingling in a fervent heat, Spike felt the world around him tilt in dangerous confusion, spinning his head with thoughts of her blistering flesh and gentle words.  Almost reluctantly, he tore away, his lips swollen from her assault.  "How the hell am I supposed to stay mad at you when you go and do something like that?" he asked.

She smiled.  "Too much talking," she said.  "Not enough kissing," and pulled him back down to her waiting lips.

The passion that had fueled their fight exploded as they ground themselves together.  Leaving the vampire's neck, the Slayer's hand dragged down his corded back, pulling out the t-shirt where it was tucked into his jeans, exposing the alabaster skin to her touch.  Her fingers dwelled in the small of his back, playing with the fine hair they found there, before scooping under the waistband, pulling his hips even closer to hers.

A groan rumbled from Spike's throat.  He wanted to feel her skin against his, to have his Slayer sear him with her heat, but the fabric of their clothing stood in the way.  His breath jagged, he reached over his shoulder to grab the cotton of his shirt and yanked it over his head in a clean jerk, breaking from the spell of her lips just long enough to slide his arms out and toss it aside.  "Your turn," he rumbled, before leaning down to suck greedily at the curve of her neck.  

Reluctantly, Buffy pulled her hand away from his body to try and get to the buttons that did her blouse up.  But where the vampire's chest pressed into her, there was no room for clearance, and she suddenly found that she didn't want to break the seal that joined them.  

As the seconds passed and the young woman remained clothed, Spike growled in frustration.  "Taking too long," he said into her throat, and yanked the collar of the shirt down in a single liquid motion.  

The Slayer felt the buttons pop, separate, the soft material slipping to allow her breasts to melt against him.  "Hey," she exclaimed softly.  "We don't have Cortina's clothing service to replace that one."

"So you'll wear mine."  Those words, like molten lava down her spine, were all it took for Buffy.  Her hips bucked, disengaging him from her frame, and she rolled away, ending on her hands and knees, head down so that her hazel eyes were staring at him through her thick lashes.

He sat back on his heels, his muscled chest reflecting the light that was bouncing around in the steel hold, and slowly, deliberately, lowered his hands to his jeans…unbuttoning…unzipping…but not removing…

She hissed, the flames of desire licking down her thighs, her eyes glued to the succulence of his flesh.  Just as slowly, just as deliberately, Buffy began crawling forward, closing the distance between them until Spike could see how dilated her pupils were, the green swallowed by the black, making her seem almost feral.  Her tongue darted out, licking around his nipple, and the vampire reached over her back to slide his long hands down the seat of her trousers, pulling her against him.

Somewhere along the journey to his lap, the young woman's pants came undone, pushed down around her ankles, so that all she had to do was give them one sharp kick and they were off.  Wrapping her slim legs around his waist, Buffy held herself up over his thighs, her arms clinging to his shoulders.  Her eyes locked with his.  No waiting this time…no hesitation…in a single liquid motion, she lowered herself, impaling herself on him.

Spike's arms curled around her body, hugging her against his, and buried his face in her shoulder, inhaling the fragrance of her skin, as she moved over him.  All those dreams, all those stupid fantasies, none of them compared to the real thing…the force of his Slayer shattering every coherent thought as the storm within his gut threatened to erupt…

He felt her chuckle against his cheek and turned his head to look at her, a question in his eyes.  

"Somehow I managed to get on top again," she said, laughing.

The smile slowly spread across his face.  "Like I said," he drawled, and bent her backwards, burying her in the blankets he'd disrupted earlier, "only 'cause I let you."

Pulling his chest away enough to break her hold, Spike grabbed first one wrist, then the other, gripping them tightly as he lifted her arms over Buffy's head, stretching her torso without letting her hips disengage from his, pinning them down so that her shoulders were immobile.  For a brief second, the young woman flashed on her first erotic dream about the vampire.  He'd done almost this exact same thing, but then it had been…  She held her breath, waiting for him to continue their lovemaking…but he only hovered, watching her intently with glittering eyes.

"What do you want?" he queried.

Her mind raced.  What did he mean?  She wanted him, she wanted it all.  What did he want her to say?

"What do you want?" he repeated.

The pounding of her heart sent the vibrations in her neck aquiver.  "You," Buffy whispered.  "I want you."  She paused, felt the breath burn in her throat.  "All of you."

That was all he needed.  With a powerful lunge, Spike thrust forward.  He never let go of her wrists, not when he began moving…

…not when she began to writhe against him …

…not when his own muscles began to tremble, his arms threatening to give…

…not even when the young woman's moans turned guttural and she threw her head back…

The fuse was lit, their screams of ecstasy mingling and echoing throughout their metal cage, and Spike's grip loosened as the spasms took control, allowing Buffy to wrench herself free.  She clutched at his torso, somehow believing that holding him could make it last even longer.

As the shudders wracking his body dissipated, the vampire slumped forward, his weight pressing against her breasts.  Her sigh of contentment filled his ears and he smiled.  "Guess this means we've officially joined the mile high club," he commented, rolling to her side without losing the contact of her skin.

Buffy snuggled against his shoulder.  Her eyes were closed as she laughed softly at his joke, and she inhaled deeply, drinking in the infusion of his scent.  "God, Spike," she murmured, "I do love you…"

*************

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Giles watched Cortina as she swallowed the last of the water, washing down the powdered medicine with a grimace, and handed him back the glass.  "You should really rest now," he said, smoothing the blanket around her.

"Not yet," she replied.  "Not until we've done this."

The Watcher sighed.  "I don't see why this can't wait."

"Trust me on this one," the white demon urged.  "Please."  She waited as he leaned over and picked up the book from the table.  "Now read the prophecy," she instructed.

It only took a moment, his blue eyes flicking over the type as he scanned the text.  "I still don't see---."

"Read it again," she ordered.

Giles paused, then returned his gaze to the page.  After a moment, he started, "It seems perfectly clear that---."

"Again."  Cortina's voice was firm but gentle, as if she were coaching a child, but the Watcher didn't seem to mind as this time, he took a few more moments to pore over the words.  When he was done, he looked at her and shook his head.  

"Read it out loud."

"…And Chosen is the Chalice,

To war, with passion, with strength,

Then to devour, with equal fortitude

As the demon possesses her

Body, soul, spirit---."

"There," she interrupted.  "That's it."

He took off his glasses, staring at her in bewilderment.  "That's what?" he queried.  

"You don't see it?"

"No, I don't," he replied, shaking his head.  "To me, it's very clear that it's predicting a cleansing ritual---."

"Oh, I'm not arguing about that," Cortina said.  "As prophecies go, the ending on that one definitely describes the effects of a demon cleansing.  I just think, maybe, we might be worried about the _wrong_ demon."  She waited, expectant, her pale eyes intent on his.

"We can't be," Giles disagreed.  "Daymon's made it very obvious that his intention is personal.  And besides, as far as we know, he's the only demon onboard with Buffy and Sp---."  He couldn't even finish the vampire's name as the pieces Cortina had seen fell together.

_To war_…

…an adversary…

Then…as the demon possesses her body… 

…oh God, the sex…

_Soul…spirit…_

…she loves him…

The Watcher looked at his companion, the disbelief etched in his brow.  "But…he loves her," he argued.  "He wouldn't…do that to her…"

Cortina's voice was low, as she shook her head.  "You're right, he wouldn't.  Not…intentionally."  She rushed to add, "I could be wrong, you know.  That's been

known to happen."

But he didn't hear her last words as the whirlwind within his head swirled out of control.  The prophecy…the demon in the ritual…the one who possessed her…not Daymon…another…

…Spike…

To be continued in Part 28…


	18. After

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Buffy has confessed to Spike that she loves him, and Cortina has told Giles her interpretation of the prophecy.

*************

He didn't mean to break the embrace.  There so many incentives to stay in it---her breath, softly fanning down his neck as her pulse returned to normal; the curve of her breast as it pressed into his side, the bud of her nipple still hard, still tantalizing; the delicate combination of vanilla and musk wafting to his nostrils.  But…her words…she hadn't…

Spike pulled away, propping himself up on his elbow, heavy brows knitted together in a frown as he gazed down at her.  "What did you just say?" he asked.

Buffy's bottom lip jutted out.  "You moved," she pouted, then realized he'd spoken.  "What?"

Her golden hair was splayed across the blankets, a silken tangle that invited, even begged, to be stroked, and the vampire's long hand reached out, fingertips dancing across her forehead as he brushed away an errant tress.  Was it the passion of the moment?  Did she even realize what she'd uttered?  As often as he'd dreamed it, as desperate as he was to hear it, Spike held no false hopes that the Slayer would, or even could, offer any more than the pleasure of her body, a few stolen moments where she treated him like a friend, like an equal.  Even so…she _was_ here; she'd deliberately chosen to board the plane, in spite of outside protestations.  Though he'd been too far away to actually hear them, he had witnessed her argument with her Watcher when he'd tried stopping her outside the stable.  How had she explained it?  "What did you say…to Rupert?" he amended.  "Back on the ground.  Wouldn't say he looked exactly thrilled from where I was hanging."

"Oh, that."  She began fiddling with the loose threads on her blouse, pulling the ones out from around the buttonholes.  "I just told him the truth, although I think Giles might've been happier this time if I'd actually lied.  He was definitely bordering on a full-blown wiggins attack."  Her eyes darted back and forth between their semi-clad bodies.  "How come I always seem to lose my pants and you don't?" the young woman demanded, the tease in her voice lightening its tone.

Slowly, the blond vampire lowered himself back down.  So much for confirmation, he thought.  Any more questions and I'm goin' to look like a pathetic wanker.  I'll just assume I didn't hear it and let it go as an afterglow Slayer thing.

As soon as he'd resumed his prone position, Buffy snuggled up against him, her knee bending, draping her leg over his own.  She began tracing abstract designs along his abdomen, nails grazing the flesh ever so slightly, sending shocks of electricity straight to his groin.  "As much as I'd rather be playing," she said, "we need to work on a plan.  Something that hurts Daymon in a really huge way, I think.  The guy just pisses me off."

"I must've done somethin' wrong then," Spike murmured, lost in the sunlight of her hair.

"Why do you say that?"

"'Cause you can still think straight," he replied.

The Slayer chuckled.  "I just said we _should_.  I never said I _could_."

"Just point me at somethin' I can kill," the vampire declared.

Twisting her body around, Buffy turned her hazel gaze to meet his.  "You miss it, don't you?"  Her voice was low, without inflection, and though she didn't elaborate, they both knew what she was referring to.

It had been some time since Spike had actively considered his pre-chip existence.  Ever since he'd realized his feelings for the Slayer, such dwelling had been replaced by an all-consuming focus on the young woman.  Now, though, at her prompting, the memories trickled back, and his eyes clouded, averting from hers.  "It was easier," he intoned.  "Everything made sense.  I knew where I stood, what my place was, where I was goin'.  Then someone comes along and decides to change all the rules.  Doesn't give me a choice in the matter, says it's this way or the highway.  So you adjust, learn how to survive all over again.  And it's still you, but it's not, 'cause your purpose is different now, and you're not one hundred percent sure where you fit in anymore."  He broke off, unable to keep the hitch out of his voice, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.  God, what he wouldn't do for a cigarette right now.

She was still watching him when his hands moved from his face.  Normally, the blond vamp had no problems reading her; Buffy wore her thoughts like a fashion accessory.  Now, though, those classical features were inscrutable.  "Where do you want to fit?" she queried.

His lips twisted in a bitter semblance of a smile.  "If I knew the answer to that, luv, would I be wastin' my time waxing all philosophical?" He sobered.  "So the answer to your first question would be yes.  And no."

"…No?"

"If I didn't have this bleedin' chip in my head, I wouldn't have here…I wouldn't have now."  He reached up and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking the curve of her lower lip. "I wouldn't have you."  Here it was; this was her chance to run.  Spike knew vocalizing his claim to her was the surefire way to set the Slayer off, send her bolting as far from him as possible in order to not have to face her own feelings.

But she didn't move.  Instead, she leaned her head into his caress, her eyes closing in what appeared to him, strangely enough, as satisfaction.  "Sometimes," she murmured, "I miss it too."

Spike pulled his hand away and sat up in mock-surprise.  "You're not wishing for days gone by just 'cause I was stake bait, are you?"

She rolled her eyes.  "Please.  Unchipped Spike means Psycho Dru, means big pain in my ass.  So no.  No missage from me."  Buffy scooted herself up so that the pair were side by side.  "What I meant was, sometimes I miss when I wasn't the Slayer."

He snorted.  "Really?" he asked unbelieving.  "You miss being weak, and vulnerable, and not being able to boss around your friends because you're the Chosen One?"

"No, I miss not having to save the world every night, and having blood-free clothing, and thinking the hardest thing I'd ever have to decide is what to wear to school the next day."  She punched him in the arm.  "And I don't boss around my friends."

"Look," Spike said, suddenly serious.  "About what I said earlier.   Don't be fussed about tellin' the whelp about me.  We'll get this Daymon mess sorted, and then when we're back in Sunnydale, you just do what's goin' to make you comfortable, OK?"

She looked at him wide-eyed.  "Since when did you turn into Mr. Sensitivity?" Buffy joked.  "Don't tell me this is what you're like after sex, 'cause have to admit, it's a little on the freaky side.  Good freaky," she was quick to reassure, "but still just a little weird."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you find out a lot of things you never knew before," the vampire said.  "It's amazin' what you can learn when you finally open your eyes."

*************

Celie watched them from the corner of the room, her black eyes hooded, arms folded across her chest.  It was just the four young people now; the older man who'd demanded she help them had yet to return.  Without his guidance, the quartet seemed at a loss, wandering aimlessly through the stacks, engaging in mindless chatter about nonsense topics.  What in the world was a Scooby dance?

"It always comes back to a library," Xander was saying.  "You blow one up, another appears in its place.  Kinda like a bad zit."

"I think it's cool," the redheaded witch replied.  She kept touching the books, scanning the titles, moving from one row to the next.  "Do you have any idea how much knowledge is contained in this one room?  I'd imagine there's stuff in here we couldn't even begin to conceive about."

"And that would be our daily affirmation, courtesy of Willow the research queen," expounded Xander.

"Am I the only one who didn't know about Spike and Buffy?"  This came from the sharp-faced girl who'd barely left the young man's side since they'd returned.  Celie had yet to figure out her role in this odd dynamic.  "This is big news.  Why wasn't I told?"

"It kinda snuck up on us, Ahn," the young man reassured.  "Trust me when I say, there is no way something this big could be kept secret for long."

Celie caught the look the two witches exchanged before disappearing around a corner.  They knew, had known for longer than Xander obviously, yet there seemed a sympathy about the knowledge.  Did they actually support such a union?  Perhaps her earlier doubts about selecting the young man as an ally in finding Spike had been unfounded.

Behind her, the library door opened, and a distracted Giles rushed in, several books tucked under his arm, keeping his head bowed as he scurried to the desk.  "Right, now, where were we?" he asked, directing the question to no one in particular.  Celie frowned as the four converged on the new arrival.  He appeared…different than when they'd parted…more in…disarray.  Something had happened; something was wrong.

"How's Cortina?" asked Willow.

"Cortina?  Oh, ummm, recuperating very nicely, thank you.  We had an interesting…discussion."  He glanced around, peering over his glasses when he spotted the black witch seated in the corner.  "Come here," the Watcher ordered, the tone of his voice begging no room for disobedience.

Rising to her full height, Celie stiffly crossed the room until she stood before him, cold black eyes level with his blue ones.  "I am not accustomed to being treated so rudely," she stated.

"Then perhaps you should consider not hurting those we care about." His words were brittle, edged with anger, and she could see him consciously struggling to control his emotions.  "Now, about Daymon's location---."

"Why should I help you?" she queried.

"Because if you don't," the young man interjected, "we may just decide Elvis gets a little midnight snack---."

"Xander!"  Everyone was shocked at the harshness in Giles' voice, the sparks that flew from his eyes as his head whipped around to glare at the construction worker, and all four younger people visibly shrank away.  

For the dark witch, the sudden command he exhibited only seemed to raise her already rising respect for the Chosen One's mentor.  Out loud, she said, "Are you going to kill him?"

"What?"  He seemed rattled by her question, frowning behind his glasses.

"Daymon.  If your intent is to kill him, then yes, I will do everything I can to help you."

The Watcher's eyes narrowed.  "You understand there will be no trade this time.  You won't be getting Spike as a reward just for helping us get Buffy back."

"Do I get to live?" 

Her question surprised him, but it was the coldness in her eyes that unnerved him even more.  Giles stuttered in reply, "Well, of course---."  

Celie brushed past him, and began leafing through the books on the desk.  "Where is your map?" she demanded.  Quickly, Willow handed over the folded paper from the duffel, but the dark witch only glanced at it disdainfully before dismissing it.  "Your _world_ map," she elaborated.

The redhead looked to Giles for help.  "Bottom shelf in the corner," he directed, then turned back to their unlikely conspirator.  "You seem awfully…eager to help us find your employer."

"Ex-employer," she clarified, her face hardening.  "It's really very simple.  He betrayed my trust.  I do not enjoy being made a fool of.  Besides," she added, taking the book of maps from Willow as the Wicca returned to the desk, "Daymon is a monster.  All demons should die."  

She didn't see the looks passed between the young people as she flipped expertly through the pages, eyes darting and fingers scanning as she found the plane's destination.  "There," Celie declared, and laying down the book, pointed to the tiny peninsula.

Giles sighed as he stared down at the atlas.  "As I feared," he murmured.  "It might as well be the moon."

"But Greece is good news," the dark witch argued.  At the group's apparent confusion, she continued.  "To fly such a distance requires almost an entire day, and even then, Daymon must finish the journey by boat.  Cape Tainaron is far too mountainous for aircraft to land safely."  She looked directly at Willow.  "That should allow you plenty of time to teleport everyone you wish."

The redhead squirmed under the woman's stare.  "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence and all, but…I haven't exactly got the right mix yet on the whole, you know, teleporting thing."

"It's quite simple.  I could teach you what you need to know," Celie offered.  "I would do it myself if my powers were still intact."

"Did you say Cape…Tainaron?" interrupted Giles, his brow wrinkled in concentration.

The dark witch nodded.  "Daymon's home is in the mountains there."

"Why?" asked Xander.  "What's so special about Cape Ta…what's it called?"

"Cape Tainaron is the modern name," the Watcher reiterated. "In ancient Greece, it was called Taenarum."

Celie looked at the older man with surprise.  "You know quite a bit about my homeland," she said.

"Oh!  Oh!" Willow brightened.  "Taenarum!  I remember that from doing the research on Elvis!  Mythology says that there's a cave there that was used to travel to the Underworld.  Hercules used it to kidnap Cerberus, and Orpheus used it to try and get back Eurydice."  She deflated slightly.  "But isn't that just more of the whole myth thing?  I mean, there really isn't a cave, is there?"

They turned expectantly to the dark witch, who regarded them evenly.  "Yes, there is.  And it's on the edge of Daymon's property."

"That can't be good," commented Anya.

"There is no current threat," Celie assured.  "It has been sealed since I was a child."

"Still, better to be prepared," Giles said.  "Now we just have to figure out how to beat Buffy and Spike there."

"Can't Celie do the teleport spell?" Willow asked, but under the older man's withering gaze, she ducked her eyes.  "OK, maybe not."

"What about the Council?" suggested Tara.  "M-m-maybe they can help."

"There's no need for that."  The group turned to face an even paler than normal Cortina standing in the doorway.  "I can take care of your travel arrangements."

*************

"Yes, sir, everything will be ready for your arrival."  The stout woman replaced the telephone receiver, sighing heavily.  She had been expecting her master's phone call for several days now; however, with half the staff sent off on holiday on her employer's previous orders, she was unsure she had the resources necessary to gather everything he'd requested.  Much of it was already in place, but he'd included a few surprises in this latest update, additions that would prove unwieldy in acquiring on such short notice.  She would get them, of course.  To fail Daymon was simply not an option.

The one thing that did surprise her was his announcement that Celandia would not be returning and to clear her room of its belongings.  The witch had been a fixture within the household for years and the housekeeper knew for a fact that her master had grown quite dependent on her particular skills.  Perhaps he had learned of Celie's crush, and had dismissed her as a result.  That would certainly fuel the staff's gossip chain for a few days.   Although the young woman had been discreet in her affections, most of his employees knew how she idolized Daymon; it was certainly only a matter of time before he discovered it for himself.  Most likely, knowledge of such emotions was enough for him to let her go.

She looked over her list again, her lips moving as she re-read the items.  Perhaps she'd send Titus and Nico to the city for the cage and the chains.  But Thanos was going to need help.  The extra work her master had requested be done at the cave would require more than one set of hands.  Maybe the gardener and his son…

To be continued in Part 29…


	19. Soul and Spirit

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Buffy and Spike are on their way to Daymon's home in Greece, while Giles has enlisted Celie's aid in finding them.

*************

Her elegant fingers gripped the doorframe as Cortina felt another wave of dizziness tilt the world around her.  Although she knew it was just a side effect of the herbs, she began to wonder if perhaps she should've stayed in bed after all, waited just a little longer before venturing out to join the group.  But she was here now, and a very worried Rupert was practically running across the room to help hold her up, so how could she go back?  

His strong arm slipped around her, gliding across her back, bracing her to stand even straighter.  Although the demon knew she didn't have to, she pressed herself slightly into his side, matching his hip with her own, her breast melding against the lean muscles under his shirt.  Cortina felt him momentarily stiffen at such close contact, then hid her smile as he relaxed into her touch.  She knew the younger people didn't see it---couldn't see it really, not with his mentor role so firmly embedded in their minds---but Rupert Giles was a man of intense passions, caged within that Watcher façade he wore with pride, waiting for just the right moment to allow those urges to run free.  As they began the trek toward the desk, she caught the bemused eyes of Willow.  Well, maybe _one_ of them could see it…

"I thought you agreed to get some sleep," Giles was chastising as she eased herself into the chair behind the desk.

"I changed my mind.  Woman's prerogative, you know."  Noting the open atlas, her smile faded.  "So it is Greece.  Just my luck he'd take her to one of the sunnier places on the planet."

The Watcher hovered behind her, leaning over her shoulder to point to the exact location on the map.  "Well, as long as you're here, I don't suppose you know anything about Taenarum, do you?"

She shook her head.  "I'm afraid anything related to the Mediterranean is out of my depth.  When one has a sunlight issue, one tends to avoid the bright, shiny places."

"But…you're in California," Giles said, frowning.

"And that's a story for another day," Cortina laughed.  "Maybe if you're a good boy, I'll fill you in on the details some time."  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, a wicked smile curling her lips, sending a furious blush across the Watcher's cheeks.  "But I can still get you there, if you want."

"I didn't know Vroleks could teleport," said Anya.

"We can't," the demon replied.  "But I have a lot of friends.  I'll just call in a few favors, get somebody to help you guys out."  She looked up at Giles.  "Have you told them yet?"

The older man ducked his head.  "No, not yet."

"Told us what?" asked Xander.

The group looked at Giles expectantly.  Sighing, he picked up the Tract of Telemus and opened it to the appropriate page.  "Cortina has a rather…unique interpretation of the prophecy."

"Great," the construction worker groaned.  "In Watcher talk, unique is just another word for bad news for Buffy."

"It's just an interpretation," Giles argued.  "There's no saying that it's correct."

"Oh god, yes," Cortina chimed in.  "There's nothing I want more than to be wrong about this one."

"And that interpretation would be…?" coaxed Xander.

The older man cleared his throat.  "Well, Cortina seems to think that perhaps Daymon isn't the threat in this cleansing ritual."

"You think there's another d-d-demon involved?" a worried Tara asked.

"Yes."  He took a deep breath.  "The prophecy lends itself to suggest that maybe…Spike is the actual danger to Buffy."

The announcement was met with stunned silence as the occupants of the room digested this latest bit of news.  Without saying a word, Willow reached for the book in Giles' hands, taking it from him without argument, and carefully re-read the text.  "Oh, goddess…" she murmured, before looking up to face the older man, a thin line between her brows.  "How did we miss that?"

"Because we didn't know about recent…developments," he replied.  

Xander raised his hand.  "OK, for those of us who are prophecy-deficient, do you care to share where exactly our favorite undead fits into all this?  And just so you know, I'm kidding about the favorite part."

Cortina watched the worried looks pass between the redheaded witch and the ex-librarian.  "Why didn't you tell me they're all in just as much denial as you are, Rupert?" she commented.  "If it wasn't so sad, it would almost be kind of cute."

"I don't think this is really the time---."

"No, you're right."  The white demon took the book from Willow's hand and laid it down in front of her.  "OK, boys and girls, time for Prophecy Interpretation 101.  And don't worry about taking any notes.  The only test you're going to have to worry about passing is getting Buffy and Spike back in good health."  She took a deep breath.  "All right.  What have you learned about cleansing rituals?"

"They don't work," Anya said.  "Well, not generally anyway."

"True, but we're not up to that yet.  More basic.  Give me a definition."

"Someone wants to rid themselves of their demon self, so they find a chalice, do the ritual, and voila!  Demon-free mortal," the young shopkeeper explained.

"Right."  Cortina pointed to the first few lines of the passage.  "The chalice acts as a receptacle for the demon once it's been expelled.  There are a ton of awful side effects, including a mass summoning of other demons and a tendency for both the Chalice and new mortal to get killed, which is why the truly desperate are really the only ones who ever attempt it."

"Still not seeing where Spike fits in," said Xander, shaking his head.

"Even if we didn't have the drawing of Buffy in the book," Giles continued, picking up where Cortina left off, "the first few lines describe her fairly accurately so we can safely assume she's going to be used as the Chalice.  But it also describes a demon, which could be interpreted as the one in the ritual."

"But that's Daymon," the young man argued.  "Buffy told us he was a guy, and then he showed up here all Godzilla-like, so obviously he's really a demon who wants to be a guy."  He paused.  "OK, now I'm confusing myself."

"Seers are generally not the most coherent of people," Cortina added.  "They love talking in circles so you have to learn to look at the prophecy and pull out only the most important parts.  In the first line of this one, Chosen, equals Chalice, equals Buffy."

"Right.  Got that."

"Then you've got this description of a demon.  One she 'wars,' or fights with, one who also possesses her. Body, soul, and spirit."  She looked up at him, her blue eyes kind.  "I know Spike's not your favorite person, Xander, but you do realize that Buffy loves him, don't you?  That's the soul and spirit part.  That's probably the part you're missing.  I mean, I assume you knew they were having sex, which is of course the his-possessing-her-body bit."

"Spike and Buffy were having sex?"  Anya's eyes were wide as she looked at her boyfriend.  "I thought you said they just thought they had feelings for each other."

"Does it _really_ matter right now, Ahn?"  He turned his worried brown gaze to Giles.  "What do you think?  Do you think Cortina's interpretation is right?  No offense," he was quick to assure the white demon.

She shrugged.  "None taken."

"I don't know," the Watcher finally admitted.   "But the possibility of Spike getting involved with the ritual somehow is certainly viable, considering how he always manages to be with Buffy when Daymon is around."

"I don't think Spike would ever hurt Buffy," offered Tara.

"As much as it pains me to admit it," Giles said, "I don't either.  That doesn't mean we shouldn't be prepared, though, just in case."

"So bottom line is, Spike's demon might be getting a new address, mainly one in the Buffy zone, right?" asked Xander.

"Correct," the older man agreed.  "But that's only if the ritual occurs.  So, our job is going to be to ensure it doesn't happen at all.  Thus, end of story, end of confusing prophecy."

*************

He heard it before she did, a low rumble that disappeared almost as quickly as it made its presence known.  Buffy blushed.  "Sorry," she said.

"When was the last time you ate anything?" Spike asked.  The deepening of the rose in her cheeks was the only answer he needed.  Jumping up from their comfortable position on the floor, the vampire began going through the boxes he'd wasted so much energy earlier in kicking around.  "Gotta be something to eat around here someplace," he grumbled.  "Wanker thought of everything else, why not food?"  His nose led him to an untouched crate near the wall, and he pulled off the top to expose an assortment of fruit and pre-packed sandwiches.  "Well, it's not exactly fine dining, but it'll do."

The young woman jumped up and practically ran to the vampire's side.  "I didn't realize how starved I was," she commented.  "I think I could even eat some of Dawn's cooking, at this point."

He stood back and watched her sink her teeth into a pear, the juice dribbling down her chin.  It was all he could do not to shake his head.  When the Slayer was hungry, any sense of etiquette went flying out the window.  He really must remember to have a word with Joyce when they returned to Sunnydale.  

"What about you?" Buffy asked between bites.  "You haven't had any blood since Cortina's.  Aren't you hungry?"

Spike shrugged.  "I've gone longer.  I'll do."

Almost unconsciously, Buffy's hand went to her neck, fingering the tiny marks that were the only physical reminder she had of her earlier donation to the vampire.  "You…really should…eat," she said

He cocked his head, mesmerized by the movement of her tiny hand.  The memories of her blood surging past his teeth…steaming down his throat…energizing his veins…brought back his erection, and he felt his skin tighten as he relived them.  "You don't need to do that," the vampire managed to get out.

"What?  You're turning down a fresh meal?  That's not like you, Spike."  Setting down the fruit, Buffy crossed the distance between them in just a couple steps, flipping her hair back over her shoulder to expose the length of her neck even more.  "What if I said…I want you to?"

The muscles in his jaw twitched as his teeth clicked shut.  She did not just say what he thought she said…did she?  He could honestly go without feeding for quite a bit longer; there was no actual need for her to make such an offer, and yet here she was, and all she was missing was the silver platter.  "Wouldn't be necessary, luv," the vamp said, taking a step back and nodding his head at the crate.  "I didn't get left out of the party this time."

The Slayer glanced down and saw the packets of blood stowed carefully under the produce.  She was shocked at the sense of dismay that rocked her core when she spied them; yes, it was a genuine offer on her part but she'd thought it was only because she worried about his wellbeing.  This strange sense of loss seemed to indicate something deeper than that, something more correctly rooted in a need to share with him something which he truly desired.  Go ahead, the tiny voice in her head whispered.  Do it anyway…

"Besides," Spike was saying, "you need to keep your strength up."  

"So do you," Buffy murmured, and inched toward him, her hazel eyes locked with his blue.  "Don't you want it?"

"God yes…"  The admission was a gurgle, choking his throat, and he tried to calm the nerves that suddenly seemed out of control.  She couldn't know what she was doing to him, couldn't see how he longed for just one more taste, one more embrace… "But it's not necessary, Buffy," he asserted, trying to keep his voice steady.  "We can't be messin' around like this when---."

She silenced him with her mouth, her hot tongue sweeping into his, her hand stealing down to his waist.  Spike felt her index finger trace around the head of his cock, brushing against the tip before tickling its way down the throbbing vein, and moaned into her kiss.  Damn it if she wasn't doing this deliberately, distracting him with the pleasure of her touch, clouding his head to anything but desire for her…

The vampire broke away, ducking his head so that she couldn't see his unwillingness to do so in his eyes.  "I don't want games from you, Slayer," he growled.  "You keep that up, and you'll be in for a rude awakening."

Buffy frowned, trying to catch her breath.  What had she done wrong?  "I'm not playing games," she said.

He turned glittering eyes toward her.  "I love you, you know that.  But do you know what means for me?  Do you know what loving you makes me want to do?"  He began to pace around the room, keeping his distance, his face growing more and more wild as he spoke.  "Everything I do, everything I think, everything I am, is flavored with you.  I go out for small spot of violence, I wonder if I'll run into you.  I get settled in my chair to watch a little telly, I wonder if you're goin' to come stormin' in to interrupt me.  Not a minute goes by when you're not in my head in some way, and it gets to the point where I think if I don't see you, I'll go completely barmy.  And now," the vamp gazed at her through his thick lashes, his head low, "you've gone and given me an actual taste for it all.  Let me feel firsthand what its like to have you, even gone so far as lettin' me drink your Slayer blood.  Do you know what I want when I see you, Buffy?"  He didn't wait for her answer.  "To devour you."

Her heart pounded in her chest.  "And you don't think that's what I want when I look at you, Spike?" she whispered.  "You think you've got this monopoly on feelings?  It's taken me a long time to actually admit any of this to myself, and damned if I'm going to let you just sweep it all under the rug and pretend it doesn't exist."

"Admit what?  That Big Bad might actually be good for a bit of the rough and tumble?"

"Is that what love is for you?  Sex?" she demanded.  "'Cause yeah, pretty amazing stuff, but lemme tell you, it's not nearly the entire package.  But if that's what it means to you, maybe I've made a mistake.  Maybe you're not who I thought you were.  And maybe falling in love with you was the worst thing I've ever done."

There it was again…those words…The blond vampire stopped his prowl around the hold, turning to face her with hands thrust deep into his pockets.  He hadn't misheard her this time; there was no orgasm to blame it on.  She'd said it…well, nearly said it.  "You know me better than that," he responded.  "Of all the people in that godforsaken hellhole of a town, you're the last one who should think I equate love with sex.  I mean, Christ!  What more do I bloody have to do to prove it to you?"

Buffy's face softened as she felt the anger dissipate from her body.  He was right, as usual.  She knew better than that, but the heat of her frustration sometimes overwhelmed her better judgment, releasing words from her mouth that she didn't really mean, didn't really believe.  She needed to make this better, but how, when everything she said seemed to make it worse?  "Nothing," the young woman said.  "You've done so much for me already.  What right do I have to ask for anything more?"

He was at her side before she could blink, tipping her head up to look into his face.  "Say it," he said, his sapphire gaze searching hers, begging her to give him what he needed to hear.  "You want to wipe the slate clean?  Say it."

There was no mistaking the need in his voice and Buffy's heart ached when she heard it.  What had he ever truly asked for?  She'd taken so much---his help, his pride, she even would've had his life if Celie had had her way---and not once had he ever really asked for anything in return.  It was so simple and she felt like such a bitch for not having given it to him sooner.

"I love you, Spike.  I know I talk big, and I make a big show about being the strong one---you know, put a brave face on for the gang, make them believe that Buffy the Vampire Slayer can handle it all.  But deep down, that's not entirely true.   'Cause those dark places that live inside me scare the living bejeezus out of me sometimes, and you are the only person who has ever really gotten that.  You see through all the shit---you always have---and, you don't care.  You love me anyway.  Hell, I'm beginning to think you love me _because_ of it.  You are probably the only person I know who isn't trying to change me, or mold me into something that I'm not.  And that means more to me than you could ever imagine."  She paused, taking a deep breath, steadying her racing pulse before she could even think about continuing.  "Being with you---just being in your presence---wakes me up like nothing else in this world ever has.  Everything seems bigger, everything seems brighter, and then when you're not there…"  Buffy shook her head.  "God, I must sound like an idiot to you, trying to explain this.  I sound like one to me."

Spike's gentle stroke of her cheek as he cupped her face sent shivers down her spine.  "If memory serves," he commented in a low voice, "I never asked you to explain anything.  I just wanted to hear you actually say the words."

Unbidden, the smile spread across the Slayer's face as she leaned forward, her mouth only inches from his ear, her skin just a promise away.  "I love you, Spike," she whispered…

To be continued in Part 30…


	20. Perchance to Dream

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Buffy and Spike are on their way to Daymon's home in Greece, while the Scoobies are hatching a plan to stop the ritual.

*************

She was asleep, curled into his shoulder like a kitten, the beating of her heart a welcome tattoo against his skin.  The combination of the food and the sex had taken its toll on her quite quickly after her declaration, and Buffy'd found herself unable to hold back the yawns.  Pulling her down onto the blankets, Spike had wrapped his long arms around her tiny form, and within moments of resting her head in the niche of his neck, the Slayer was out like a light.

He couldn't sleep, not after everything…the rest he'd had back at the stable…the rush of their earlier argument…and especially the avowal of her true feelings.  In so many ways, he felt like he had after he'd first been turned, unsure, eager to please, floating on a cloud as the constant refrain of _she loves me, she actually loves me_ tumbled about his head.  Of course, he had over a hundred years of cynicism and experience under his duster now; he wasn't exactly the naïve, nancyboy poet of yesteryear.  There was no reason for him to worry about what to do, or how to please her…except he would, because that was who he was.  Spike…ever the hopeless romantic…

Buffy sighed, rolling over in her slumber with a small smile on her lips.  Not yet willing to break the contact with her, the blond vampire matched her movement, slipping his forearm around her waist, burying his nose in her hair.  His attention was rewarded, as the young woman unconsciously nestled her bottom into his hips, her buttocks cupping him perfectly, bringing his erection firmly back to life.  As much as he loved the idea of just ravishing her there and then, Spike knew that time was ticking away.  Each minute they spent in the air meant they were that much closer to Daymon's little cleansing ritual.  And they had yet to figure out a plan of escape.

He didn't like the sound of this prophecy Giles had dug up.  Although he'd never heard of this particular rite, the vamp knew that such things existed.  Almost anything was possible in this world; he'd learned that ages ago.  All you had to do was be willing to pay the price.  

How long before they landed? he wondered.  For that matter, where in the hell were they going?  Buffy had her money on Greece, seeing as that was where the bastard was from, and Spike hoped to God that she was wrong.  He and Dru had been to the islands once many years ago, and the whole experience wasn't exactly fraught with happy memories.  That, combined with the incessant sunshine, was enough to make him want to avoid the place altogether.  But since the Slayer seemed fairly certain, those were the contingencies he had to plan for.

There was a niggle of an idea brewing somewhere in the back of his chipped head, but that damn sunlight issue kept coming back to bite him in the ass.  What he wouldn't give for the Gem of Amarra right about now; then they'd have no problem getting away from the wankers.  Him and Buffy could just hop out of the plane, give them a taste of the old one-two, then sort out that Daymon once and for all.  He couldn't help the wrinkle of disgust that pinched his nose.  No way was he going to let the Slayer hog that one; too much had happened over the past few days for him not to get his share of the killing when it came down.  And Daymon was most definitely going to feel the pain.

Against his chest, the Slayer suddenly twitched, jerking in her slumber, and the blond vampire felt her heartbeat begin to quicken.  He leaned forward, gazing over her shoulder, and saw that her smile had disappeared, replaced by a tiny line between her brows.  Dreams, perhaps even nightmares…?  Although he knew it wasn't possible, Spike wished that he could somehow crawl into her head, help her fight whatever personal demons were destroying her rest.  No one hurt his Buffy, not in his world.

*************

She couldn't move…why…was she tied down?  Couldn't feel the bindings…so no…but she still couldn't move and she had no idea why.  Magic…had to be, that was the only answer…which only posed the question, who was doing the magicking?  Buffy couldn't see---overhead was pitch black---and she couldn't turn her head to check if there was light from anywhere else.  A void…that's what she was in…nothingness…

And then she was blind…the sudden flash of radiance a shock to her system…dripping its fingers of flame down the sides of her body…and it was there…and she couldn't stop it…

Burning…crimson alternating with white…and it slammed into her chest, stealing her breath…couldn't…replaced by didn't…no need…and the hunger…

And she was rising…straightening…and all of a sudden she could see again…the world around her tinged in gold…

An earthen floor…the carved walls…for a moment, she thought it was Cortina's…but not the white demon's…another…and the world began to quake…the ground to open…an ocean of gaping mouths…hungry…needing to be sated…

It wasn't time…she wasn't ready…but they didn't care…leaping at her…attaching themselves to her body…sucking…draining her lifeforce…eating her very core…

And then there he was…forcing his way through the throng…him but not him…beaten back…and forward again…grabbing hold…pulling her to the ground…and then his mouth…joining the others…and all she wanted to do was look into his face…

…But she couldn't…

*************

As Giles rubbed tiredly at his eyes, his glasses dangling from his free hand, Cortina reached down to pull out the bottom drawer of her desk.  "I think you need a little pick-me-up," she said, extracting a dark flask from its depths.

"What I need is a good nights sleep," he muttered.

"Well, yes, that too," the white demon conceded.  "But this will help."

The Watcher replaced his glasses and peered at the label.  "I thought Buffy said you were allergic to alcohol," he said.

"I am.  I just keep that for…special guests."  She held up a warning finger.  "But don't you dare go telling Spike that I had some."  At his confusion, Cortina rolled her eyes.  "Have you ever seen a vampire drink?" she commented.  "They are not exactly masters of control."

The liquor burned as it swilled down his throat, leaving a fiery almond trail in its wake.  Giles could feel it etch its way down his gullet, and his eyes almost immediately began watering.  

Cortina giggled.  "I probably should've warned you, it's a little strong."

Before he could respond, the ex-librarian felt a languor begin seeping into his muscles, a molasses swamp begin forming in his head.  "And it works amazingly…fast…"  

"Well, better you than me," she commented.  "I'll have one of my men escort you to a spare room."  As he began to sway, her hand darted out, grabbing his arm, steadying him.  "Or maybe you can just sleep in here."

"Somehow…that seems like…a very good idea," Giles murmured, using the desk to help support his weight.  He managed to crack a smile.  "If I didn't know better, I'd think…you'd poisoned me."

"No," Cortina said gently, rising so that he could take her chair.  "It's only poison to me."  She hovered behind him as he settled, her hand reaching down and pushing the hair away from his eyes.  "You sleep," she murmured.

"We need…Celie should be…"    
"I'll send somebody to take her to another room so that you can rest.  As long as I'm around, she can't use her magic, so you shouldn't be at any risk."  As the Watcher rested his head on his folded arms, the white demon leaned over and kissed his temple.  "Good night, Rupert."

He heard her leave the library, her robe rustling softly as the door clicked shut behind her.  The combination of exhaustion and that mysterious alcohol was melting his body into the chair, dragging his eyelids down.  To sleep, perchance to dream…

"Do you all consort with demons?"

The voice filtered through the fog in his mind, and Giles lifted his head, blinking rapidly as he tried to focus.  Someone had spoken…oh yes…the witch… "Pardon?" he asked, trying his best to sound coherent.

Celie's black eyes bore into him from her chair in the corner.  "The Chosen One has a vampire for a lover, and you are obviously on intimate terms with…"  She gestured abstractly to the door behind her.  "…her.  Is this standard practice amongst those who claim to be fighting to free our world of demons?"

"We're not…intimate," he managed, and reached for his glasses.  Perhaps wearing them would make him wake up.  "Cortina's a friend.  She's merely helping us."

The dark witch snorted in contempt.  "You are just as blind as those children you lead," she said.  "She will turn on you.  They all do."

Giles frowned.  "Is this a personal vendetta for you or are you just completely daft?"

Slowly, Celie stood, gliding across the room until she stood before the desk again.  "Are you not curious as to why I wanted the vampire?" she queried.

"Actually, no."

"Yet you followed the Chosen One to save him.  If you care so little about him, why would you do that?"

Although the questions were cutting through his fatigue, the Watcher was still struggling to stay awake.  "For Buffy's sake," he replied, and rubbed again at his eyes.

"Yes…Buffy…"  Her long hands began running down the sides of the desk, a hypnotic dance as she slid herself around to his side.  "For one so young, she certainly inspires…devotion among those who encounter her."

"She's a remarkable young woman," Giles argued.  The witch's hands seemed to be everywhere, here floating above the desk, there gliding along his arm.  He didn't know if it was a side effect of Cortina's alcohol or a product of his own imagination, but he could've sworn she was deliberately trying to entice him.

"Do you wonder what her life would be like, should she not be forced to follow the path of the Slayer?" Celie questioned.  "What if there were no more vampires for her to kill?  What if there was no need for you to train her to fight, to lead her in the battle against the demon world?  It's possible, you know.  There are magics, very old, very powerful, that could make it so."

"I told you…no trade…"  He was losing the battle, his lids growing heavier by the moment, and it was all he could do to remain sitting up.  What was she suggesting?  No vampires?  How was that possible…?

"I am not asking for a trade," Celie crooned.  "Merely for you to…consider the possibilities.  A world where young girls are not forced to die battling evils they shouldn't even know about.  A world where a man can choose his own destiny, to love instead of to war…to watch his own children grow instead of watching his charges get slaughtered…to die in the comfort of his own bed instead of being savaged by ungodly demons.  Is that not a world that appeals to you, Mr. Giles?"

The pictures she painted danced across his mind's eye in a kaleidoscope of images, dizzying him into dropping his head.  I'll just shut my eyes for a moment, he thought, just to clear my thoughts…

Her eyes were inscrutable as she watched him drift off to sleep.  She needed no response; the seeds she'd sown were planted, taking hold in his subconscious.  Even without her magic, she knew he would dream of those very things she'd described, and he would wake with an overwhelming ache to have them.  Perhaps the Watcher would not be an active ally, but Celie refused to believe that he would stand in her way, should she get close enough to the vampire again.  And the opening was all that she needed.  

The witch's gaze settled on the flask still sitting on the desktop.  If they'd wished her to be helpless, they should never have allowed her to sit in on their conversations.  She had honestly believed that her powers were gone, that she had no recourse for getting them back.  But the white-haired hellbitch---what did they call her?  Cortina?---had admitted that Celie was only helpless for as long as she remained in the demon's presence.  Perhaps the solution to her current quandary lay in the drink, or rather, in Cortina's purported allergy.

The shuffle from outside the library door startled her from her reverie, and the witch turned to face the door, blocking the desk, her fingers wrapping around the alcohol.  As the entrance opened to reveal two of the horned demons who guarded the caves, she slid the flask into her waistband, under her blouse, staying as straight as possible in order to avoid their suspicion.  Her face remained stoic as they grabbed her arms, yanking her away from the sleeping Watcher.  Just don't search me, she thought, and stumbled out into the hall.

*************

The sunshine beat down on them as they stood before the cave, their tools slung over their shoulders, eyes squinting against the bright afternoon light.  This was not a part of the property that was frequently visited.  Most of the staff chose to ignore it, avoiding it at all costs, and it was only when the master made a direct request that it got approached.  Even then, though, there were often arguments about who would go, and who would stay.  It was then that Thora would step in to mediate, making the final decision in a tone of voice that broached no disagreement.  One did not argue with the stout housekeeper; she was Daymon's right hand and when he was away, her word was law.

"We should hurry," Thanos said, shifting the weight of his pack.  "We can finish before sundown if we don't waste our time."

He was only voicing what all of them were thinking.  Of the group, not one man would've been comfortable being in the cave after dark.  Even though it had been sealed for over twenty years, the stories still abounded---screams of agonizing pain echoing throughout the countryside, ethereal forms walking along the mountain, the dead rising to avenge injustices.  Some would argue that they were only myths, tales concocted to explain natural phenomena, and that those who believed were fools being led around by their cowardice.  But Thanos and his men knew differently, had seen the truth, had faced the mask of the monster…and feared it.

Silently, they crossed the threshold of the cave, their footsteps all of a sudden too loud for the tiny space, forced to go single-file as it narrowed.  It was only a matter of feet before it widened, but in those few seconds it took to traverse the path, each felt the terror choke his breath, and kept his eyes straight ahead on the back of the man in front of him.  Don't look down, don't look around…thus was the mantra of the ones who were subject to duties within the cave.  To do so was to invite madness, or worse; they had all been witness to the last victim the cave had claimed.  Even though it had been over a year earlier, Thora still arranged to have fresh flowers placed on his grave every week…

To be continued in Part 31…


	21. Rage

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Celie has stolen Cortina's flask, and Buffy and Spike are still on the plane on their way to Daymon's home in Greece.

*************

They slept.  In the early morning hours, the caves rang silent, void of life and bereft of activity as its inhabitants embraced the world of dreams.  Even the guards slumbered, lost in whirlwind images, relaxed for the first time in weeks.  There were no midnight vigils, no uninvited visitors roaming the edges of the tunnels, no quiet distractions to wile away the time.  Tranquility reigned throughout Cortina's territory, and the night crept on.

In the rooms that housed guests, anxiety had been replaced by anticipation, knowledge that when they awoke, they would be on their way to save Buffy.  Partners cozied up to each other, curling into familiar bodies, holding onto loved ones' resting forms as if they were the only two left in a sea of debris.  Tara slept with a smile curling her lips, her head nestled against Willow's breast, her arms tucked safely around the redhead's waist.  In Xander's room, an exhausted Anya lay wrapped in the bed's comforter, forcing her boyfriend to press himself directly against her in an attempt to share the warmth.  And in the library, a weary Watcher dreamt of laughing little blonde girls playing in the sunshine.

The silence was deceptive though, and an onlooker would've been easily lulled into believing that all was well behind the closed doors.  Two in particular were not asleep, were not relaxed, were instead making plans, each of her own design and method.  Neither wanted to wake the others, and they worked as quietly as they could.

…And still the others slept…

*************

She knew she should rest, have some more time to heal before summoning assistance, but Cortina feared that waiting would prove to be a mistake, allowing anything to happen to Buffy and Spike in the interim.  Better to be safe than sorry, she thought, and lit the last of the candles.

The reaction was instantaneous.  The candles immediately extinguished, replacing the ambient light with darkness, relighting themselves just seconds later.  The white demon looked up from her seat on the floor and smiled.

"Don't ever stop answering on the first ring," she teased.  "It's so refreshing."

The gaseous form before her shimmered.  "I suppose you're going to make me take human form."

"Do you mind?" asked Cortina.  "I've had a rough night and watching you fade in and out is just going to give me a headache."

The shape seemed to shrug.  "Suit yourself."  It wavered, solidified, wavered again, before settling into a woman's figure…a very large woman's figure.  She towered over Cortina, easily outstripping her by a foot and several hundred pounds, with a shower of long green hair tumbling over her shoulders.  The smile on her face was genuine, though, and as her body finished rooting itself, she collapsed on the nearby bed.  "Corporeal forms are so…exhausting," she complained.  "One of these days, I'm going to make you come visit me.  See how you like being bossed around by your host."

"I'd love to, Doll, but first you've got to stop living in the clouds.  Still have the sunlight issue, you know."

Dolly grimaced.  "Oh yeah."  She sat up, gazing down at the white demon, and was about to speak when she suddenly sniffed.  The demon frowned.  "You've got people here," she stated matter-of-factly.

"That's kind of why I called."  Cortina folded her legs underneath her, trying to ease the strain sitting on the floor was putting on the wound in her abdomen.  "They need to get to Greece as soon as possible."

"Isn't that what they have planes for?"

"Normally, I'd say yes.  But there are extenuating circumstances this time."

"I can't believe you want me to help a bunch of humans," Dolly snorted, lifting her bulk from the bed.  "That takes a lot of nerve after what happened with those Brazilians.  What the hell's going through your head?  Why would you get yourself mixed up with…"  She stopped, cutting herself off and audibly groaned.  "Oh, god, please.  Don't tell me.  This is about a guy."

Cortina couldn't help the blush that flew to her cheeks.  "Well, yes, there is a guy, but I got involved with Buffy's problems before Rupert ever showed up---."

"Buffy?"  The incredulity in her voice boomed throughout the room.  "It's bad enough you're caught up with humans, but you want me to help one named _Buffy_?  How pathetic is that?"

"I wouldn't talk, _Dolly_," the white demon retorted, stressing the other's name.  "And she's not just any human.  She's the Vampire Slayer."

Her guest flopped back down onto the bed.  "Oh, this just gets better and better," she commented.  "Have you conveniently forgotten she kills our kinds as well?  She's been on the Demon Corps' 10 Most Wanted List ever since that Ascension debacle two years ago.  They find out you're helping her, they're going to drag you out into the sunshine faster than you can say Hellmouth."

"They're not going to find out."  Cortina's voice was firm.  "Because it's none of their business.  And Buffy's not like what you're thinking.  She's a lot more on the ball than any of the other Slayers I've met.  Plus, she's got a vampire for a boyfriend."

"Oh, big surprise there.  Slayers have been sleeping with vampires for centuries."

"Maybe, but this time it's different."  The white demon's blue eyes softened.  "C'mon, you remember what it's like to be young and in love."

The duo sat there and stared at each other for a long moment.  Finally, Dolly sighed.  "You said there was a guy…"

"Her Watcher."  Cortina's face lit up, and the corpulent demon opposite her was struck by the sudden animation in her voice.  "Rupert Giles.  Incredibly intelligent, with these eyes that just pierce right through you.  Every time he looks at me, I just feel my stomach turning into slush.  Oh!   And he's British, too."

"Figures," Dolly said.  "You and accents.  You'll never change, Cort."  She began playing with the ends of her hair.  "If I do this---and I say if---this makes us totally even.  For everything.  No calling in favors later on.  Capisce?"

"Totally."

"And I just have to take this Slayer to Greece, right?"  She waited for a response, but was met only by Cortina's uncomfortable silence.  "Right?" she prompted.

"Actually, she's not the one I need you to teleport," the white demon hedged.  "Well, I'll need for you to bring her back, of course, but for going out there…it's more like her Watcher and some of her friends."

Dolly shook her head.  "You must have it pretty bad to be doing this for a human.  You do know he'll never last, don't you?  Ten minutes with you in bed and he'll be on oxygen."

Cortina's smile was coy, her pale blue eyes dancing.  "Oh, I think he might last longer than that," she said.  "He's very…surprising."

"I'll be the judge of that."  She stood, and stretched to her full height, cracking her back as she did so.  "I want to have a talk with this Rupert fella.  Then I'll decide if I'm going to help."

"He's asleep in the library.  I can take you there---."

Dolly waved a hand in dismissal.  "Don't bother; I remember my way around.  Besides, you should get some sleep.  Were you even going to mention the fact that someone took a stab at you tonight?"

"I took some stuff for it.  I'll be all right."

"Yeah, sure.  That's why you're sitting there like someone's shoved a redwood up your ass."  Before the white demon could argue, she was scooped up into her friend's arms and laid gently down onto the bed.  "Go to sleep.  And that's an order."

Cortina snuggled down into the blankets.  Rest did sound appealing, and the comforter was toasty from Dolly's massive body heat.  "Maybe just a little nap."  She watched as her guest began to shimmer in front of her, seemingly evaporating before her eyes, and she let her own lids slide shut.  Almost immediately, the visiting demon's voice came floating back to her. 

"I haven't said yes yet…"

Cortina's smile was unconscious.  "You will," she murmured, before drifting off to sleep.

*************

He watched her playing in the sandbox, the grains running down the sides of her legs as she poured the bucket over her knees, a huge smile on her face as she delighted in the novelty.  A dog barked in the distance, answered quickly by a familiar shout, but Giles didn't look away from his charge, couldn't break away from enjoying her innocent glee.  Although the book in his lap was open, he hadn't read a word since arriving at the park.  The gratification in watching Buffy was more than what he could get from some silly adventure novel.

The dog was closer now, still barking, and the ex-librarian felt a momentary pang of annoyance.  Couldn't people keep their pets on leashes anymore? he wondered.  Or wasn't it PC these days to constrain your animals?  For a moment, he thought he heard someone call his name, but shook it off.  You don't know anyone out here but Buffy, he argued silently.  But then…there it was again.

"Rupert Giles…?"

He was about to turn when he felt the large hand clap down on his shoulder, shaking him…

*************

"Will you just wake up already?"

Giles bolted upright in his seat, his arms jerking out reflexively, sending his glasses skittering to the floor.  The hand was still on his shoulder, the heavy grip loosening as he glanced around, bending over to retrieve his eyewear from under the desk.  Blinking rapidly to clear his blurry vision, he straightened, and was immediately met with the sight of an extremely large woman standing in front of him, her foot tapping impatiently, fingers playing with the ends of her…green hair?

"Um…pardon?"

She visibly relaxed.  "Yep, you're the guy.  You sleep like the dead, you know that?"

"I'm sorry," Giles stuttered, trying to shake the fog from his head without looking too foolish.  "Have we met?"

"Officially?  No.  Well, actually, not unofficially either.  My name's Dolly.  I'm a friend of Cort's."

"Oh."  Without even thinking, the Watcher's mouth stretched into a yawn, and he flushed a deep red as he tried to cover it up.  "Excuse me," he apologized through his fingers.  "I haven't slept that soundly in years."

"I'm sure Cort would've let you have one of the rooms," the demon said.  "Or are you just as nutso about books as she is and couldn't bear being parted from them?"

"She did offer, yes, but…"  He cut himself off and stared at her, his blue eyes slightly narrowing.  "Does Cortina know you're here?" he questioned.

"Here, and with her blessing," she replied.  "And hopefully by now, she's as out of it as you were when I got here."

Giles nodded.  "Good.  She hasn't rested nearly enough to heal properly.  She puts a brave face on, but she's really not very good at taking of herself, is she?"

"Cort's got a tendency to get wrapped up in others' needs ahead of her own," Dolly said slowly.  

"Yes, she's most definitely a caretaker, with an order of romantic on the side, I do believe," he assessed, oblivious to the demon's narrowing gaze.  He was waking up, feeling more refreshed than he had in ages.  He couldn't have been asleep for that long and for him to be so invigorated, it would've taken hours in his own bed, with no undue interruptions.  Perhaps it was Cortina's alcohol…

His gaze flitted down to the desk and he frowned, at once concerned.  It was empty.  He didn't remember putting the flask away; perhaps he'd knocked it onto the floor when he awoke.

Dolly watched in amusement as the man got down on his hands and knees and began searching around the desk, bumping his head more than once and cursing under his breath, finishing by opening each and every one of the drawers.  Her smile faded, though, when he rose, his face a thunderous mask of anger, blue eyes blazing.  "Was there anyone else in here when you arrived?" he asked.

"No," she answered.  This was a different man than the one she'd materialized in on, and for a brief second, she saw what had attracted Cortina's eye.  Barely suppressed fury crystallized his movements as Giles grabbed the duffel bag from against the wall and slung it over his shoulder.  As he brushed past her toward the door, Dolly heard him mutter, "Celie…"

*************

Even with his previous flight through the corridors, Giles found himself frustrated as they began to blend into each other, doors closed against him, not one of them with a guard.  He hadn't bothered to ask Cortina where she was putting the witch up for the night, hadn't really thought it necessary, and now he was kicking himself for the oversight.  Celie had heard all of their conversations---stupid, Rupert, he chided himself, how could you be so stupid?---which meant that she knew about the white demon's hold on her magic, and about the alcohol, and most likely what the drink would do to her.  And now the flask was missing…

The other one, Dolly, was trailing after him, not helping but not getting in the way either.  Giles didn't care; his only concern was to get to the black witch before she…

He stopped abruptly as he rounded the corner and saw the demon's inert form lying on the ground.  The pool of blood under its head was already beginning to attract the insects, and it was all the Watcher could do not to stare at the clean slit across the creature's neck.  Wrenching his gaze away, he skirted the body, poking his head through the open door behind it.  It was empty.  Celie was gone.  

Abruptly, Giles knelt down and gave the demon a quick search.  Definitely dead, most likely had been sleeping when she'd snuck up on him from behind.  But she'd been unarmed; how did she…?  He found the empty scabbard under the man's jacket, and he closed his eyes in dismay, his head hanging as his heart thumped in his chest.  Now…she had a weapon.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or do you want me to guess?"

Giles straightened at the demon's voice, his jaw locked, the muscles twitching.  "Cortina's in danger," he said, and reached into the duffel hanging over his shoulder.  He almost didn't see Dolly begin to fade out, but as soon as he noticed, his eyes widened.  "You can teleport?" he asked.  Without waiting for a response, he leapt over the dead body on the ground, crossing the distance between them with a speed that alarmed the green-haired demon.  "Take me to her."  

It was a demand, not a request, and seeing the determination on the human's face, Dolly merely shrugged.  "Whatever," she said.  

He wasn't sure what to expect, but the sinking feeling in his stomach was nothing compared to the dread that clutched his heart.  Please, he begged silently as he cocked the crossbow, don't let me be too late.

*************

Even before he had taken solid form, he could see the occupants of the room, could see Celie's hunched form over a struggling Cortina, could even see the rag clapped over the white demon's mouth and nose.  He desperately wanted to use the weapon he held tight in his hands, but Giles knew without looking that he wasn't there just yet, was only a diaphanous figure in the corner of the room.  He heard her, though, and the bile that rose in his throat was real enough to burn.

"They are fools to trust you," Celie hissed.  "They do not see that you are evil, that all demons must be destroyed.  But they will.  Once you are dead, I will have my powers back and then---."  Her words were cut off in a strangled scream, as an arrow embedded itself in her upper arm.  Clapping a hand over the blood that had already started to flow from the wound, the witch looked up to see the Watcher standing near the doorway, the crossbow ready in his arms.  

"Step away from her."  His voice was low and deadly, and she could see the hatred burning in his eyes.  Very slowly, she rose to her feet.

"You are too late," she said with a vicious smile.  "That allergy of hers is quite sensitive."  She gestured toward Cortina's form with the rag that still dangled from her fingers.  "Even the touch of alcohol on her skin proves quite effective.  I am certain she is dying even as we speak."

Giles took the risk and glanced down at the white demon.  Sure enough, where the fabric had been pressed against her face, deep red burns and welts sizzled along her skin.  His step toward her was unconscious, but he stopped himself, swiveling his head to face the witch again.

Celie's smiled widened.  "It is better this way, you will see.  She was---."

The second arrow found its mark with the precision of a surgeon's hand, knifing into her chest, sending her stumbling backwards against the wall.  She looked with wide eyes at Giles, unbelieving, before slumping to the floor.

"---a better person than you will ever be," the older man finished, his voice cold as he stared down at her lifeless form.

Dolly brushed past him and went straight for the bed, lifting Cortina into her arms.  Quickly, her eyes scanned her friend's face, before glancing back at the rag that had fluttered to the floor.  Stooping to pick it up with a free hand, she gave it a deep sniff and then turned to face the Watcher.  "Damn thing's soaked in liquor," she explained.  "That means she's going to have internal burns as well.  They can be treated, but I have to---."

"Do whatever you must," Giles insisted, unable to tear his eyes from Cortina's now unconscious face.  It wasn't until the pair had disappeared that the first prick of a tear stung his own eyes.  "Whatever you must," he repeated to the empty air.

*************

They sat around the desk, silent in the aftermath of the Watcher's story, a note of sobriety hanging in the air.  No one knew exactly how to respond, and each was lost in his or her own Scooby thoughts.  It was Anya who finally shattered the quiet.  "And you're sure she's dead?" she queried.

"Positive," Giles replied, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.  "An arrow through the heart works just as effectively on humans as it does on vampires."

"Now don't get me wrong," started Xander, "'cause god knows, I'm all ding dong, the witch is dead, here.  But, with Celie out of the picture, and Cortina poofed away to Neverneverland, how exactly are we going to get to Buffy?"

It was the question they had all been considering, but none had been brave enough to voice.  Turning expectant faces toward the older man, the four younger people waited for him to come through with his usual save-the-day solution.

"I don't know," Giles admitted.  "I've been going over and over it since…"  He couldn't even say her name, the memory of the scarlet burns on the delicate white skin still etched on his brain.  "Perhaps we could attempt the teleport ourselves.  Now that her influence is gone from this area, Willow, Tara and I could try our hand at some magic…"

"That won't be necessary."  

Giles looked up to see Dolly standing in the doorway, somewhere between her solid and gaseous forms.  Half-standing, he leaned forward, the worry shining in his eyes.  "Is she…?"

"Healing," the demon replied.  "She'd be dead now if you hadn't stopped the witch."

A relieved Watcher sank back into his chair.  "Thank god," he breathed.

There was a moment while Dolly just watched them, seemingly waiting for them to do something.  Finally, she sighed in exasperation.  "Well, chop chop," she said.  "Get your stuff.  I don't have all day, you know."

"Our…stuff?" Giles queried.  "What in the world are you talking about?"

"Whatever you're going to need to help your Slayer," she clarified.  "I'm taking you to Greece."

To be continued in Part 32…


	22. Best Laid Plans

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Giles has killed Celie after her attack on Cortina, and---surprise, surprise---Buffy and Spike are still on the plane on their way to Daymon's home in Greece.

*************

The hold looked like it had been hit by a cyclone.  Empty boxes and crates were stacked against the walls, with their contents strewn about the room---bags of fruit, packets of blood, blankets, clothes---while a pile of discarded cargo straps sat near the space's only exit.  Buffy and Spike stood back, her arms folded across her chest, his arms wrapped around her, both of them surveying the mess.

"Well," the Slayer announced, "that's what we got."

"So what you're saying is, weapon-wise, we got squat."

"Yep," Buffy nodded.  "Just this side of diddly."

Almost twenty hours in the plane had brought next to nothing in the way of ideas for a clever escape.  Every time one of the pair came up with a scheme, it invariably got shot down with the caveat that both were convinced was going to be their downfall---by the time they landed in Greece, it would be nine or ten in the morning, and unless there was some minor miracle, the sun would be blazing, limiting Spike's mobility outside of the aircraft.

He was blaming himself for their difficulty in settling on a feasible solution.  To be honest, the vamp wasn't worried about their lack of formal weaponry; he'd seen the Slayer in action often enough to know that you could put a pickle in her hand, and she'd still find a way to use it against an opponent.  And they definitely had better possibilities than pickles, he thought wryly.   No, what was disturbing him was how much he was holding her back.  She wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for you, Spike scolded himself.  Shit, she wouldn't even be on the plane if Daymon hadn't used you as bait.  He didn't like being responsible for this, for knowing that by all rights the Greek should've been dead already, that he was the reason they were stuck here, but he was keeping those thoughts to himself, holding them away from Buffy so that she could more rightly concentrate on their task at hand.

The Slayer turned around in his arms, lifting her own so that they rested on his shoulders, and smiled.  "It looks like all we have to do now is wait.  Whatever are we going to do to pass the time?"

His own lips curled into a knowing grin.  "And here I thought us vamps were the ones with insatiable appetites."

"Don't you want to---ow!"  She cut herself off and pulled away, her fingers going to her left ear.

"What is it?  What's wrong?

Buffy scowled.  "My ear just popped.  God, I hate flying."  She was about to return to his embrace and had made it halfway there, when she froze, hazel eyes lifting to meet his blue ones.  The change in air pressure could only mean one thing, and both of them knew it; the plane was beginning its descent.

"You ready for this?" the young woman asked.

Spike smirked.  "You ever see me turn down a good fight?" he responded.

Opening her mouth to give him his appropriate comeback, Buffy stopped when an audible scraping sound came from behind the exit.  She turned her head, Slayer senses suddenly on alert, and set her jaw.  "Sounds like showtime," she said.

She was already moving by the time the door swung open, leaving Spike in plain sight of the new arrivals, a huge grin on his face.  "Didn't know you were stoppin' by," the vampire said nonchalantly as two of Daymon's men crept in, crossbows cocked and ready.  "Too bad you won't be stayin'."

He watched as Buffy leapt at them, lethal grace in mid-air, tackling both in one blow and sending them sprawling before rolling herself to safety.  One had dropped his weapon as he fell, and the Slayer had snatched it up, steadying it in her arms and aiming it at them, before either had a chance to react.

"Is it too much of a cliché to say, drop it or I'll shoot?" Buffy asked the one who was still armed.  "'Cause I'm thinkin'…drop it, or I'll shoot you."

The man hesitated, the crossbow dangling from his hands as he struggled to regain his composure, his eyes darting from Buffy's annoyed face…to the weapon in her arms…back to her face.  After only a moment, he opened his fingers and let it clatter to the floor.

"Tie them up, Spike."  Buffy stood back, watching as the blond vampire grabbed them by their shirts and hauled them back against the wall, picking up a couple cargo straps on his way.  "You know," she continued lightly, "maybe I'm giving Daymon too much credit here.  I mean, he really can't hire for shit, 'cause these guys are just pathetic.  And that guard back at the house?  One hit, and he was out colder than a dead fish."

Neither of them noticed the shadow in the doorway, nor the shiny muzzle glinting in the dim light in the hold.  It was only when she felt the sharp prick in her shoulder blade did the Slayer whirl around, crossbow raised and ready.  "What the hell?" she said, reaching around her body with her left hand, clutching the small dart she found embedded there, before staring at it incredulously.  She tossed it at the third man.  "I am _so_ not in the mood for…"  Her voice faded away as the room darkened…dipped…swirled around her…

Spike's head swiveled just in time to see the young woman crumple to the floor, eyes rolling back into her head, lashes fluttering.  "Buffy!" he called, and jumped to his feet.  His switch into game face was automatic, and he turned glittering golden eyes toward the door.  Bugger the pain, he thought, and leapt at the man in the entrance.  

Even though he'd been advised that the vampire couldn't actually hurt him, the guard's eyes went wide, and his finger squeezed reflexively on the trigger of the tranquilizer gun, once…twice…both times finding its target, but not slowing the demon's advance.  They went over in a tumble, and Spike snarled as the pain shot through his head.  Don't care, he thought wildly.  Not after what he did to Buffy…

The last word floated away on a black cloud as the darts took effect, stealing into his system, and sending him downward into a spiral of nothingness…

*************

The sun blazed over them, its gentle heat belying the brilliant radiance that made the group squint as they gazed out over the azure waters.  Dolly had been true to her word, teleporting the five of them, along with the Hound, to Cape Tainaron, and leaving Willow the means to contact her again once they had rescued Buffy.  Those were the words she'd used, never admitting the possibility that they might fail, and the Scoobies were desperately holding on to that optimism.  They didn't want to think about what could happen, should they not succeed; the threat of a demon Slayer was not something they exactly relished and none of them wanted to even consider the prospect of having to kill their close friend.  Better to stay positive and contemplate the fight that they soon expected right at their feet.

"Now, we're sure this is the right dock?" Xander asked for the millionth time.

Giles sighed.  "I'm not going to say this again.  Everyone I spoke to in the town agrees that when Daymon flies in, he always comes in at this dock.  The dockmaster even said there's a scheduled arrival this morning, so yes, Xander, this is precisely where we need to be."

"And you tipped him enough so that he's not going to lie to you, right?" the young man continued.  "You didn't screw up the money conversion thing and accidentally insult him by giving him ten cents instead of ten bucks, did you?"

"No, I bloody well did not," the Watcher replied through gritted teeth.  "And if you ask one more inane question, I'm going to instruct Willow to give you to Elvis as his mid-morning snack."

Xander held up his hands in mock defense.  "Hey, just want to be clear here," he said.  "I mean, we're basing this whole dock theory on a crazy witch who no longer happens to be around to verify any of this.  You can't blame me for being a little worried we might mess this up."

"You don't think D-d-daymon did the ritual on the plane, do you?" asked Tara, hoping the change of topic would stop the two men from squabbling.

"That's highly unlikely," Giles replied, grateful for the diversion.  "There seems to be too much significance in the fact that his property houses the mythological cave of Taenarum.  It must have some mystical draw to it, or perhaps a confluence of energies that allows more demon activity than normal.  Regardless, he seemed much too eager to bring Buffy back here if he was merely going to perform the cleansing on the journey."

"You know, I was thinking about the prophecy," Willow chimed in, her voice thoughtful.  "And I'm not one hundred percent sure we're in any actual danger anymore."

"Oh, really?" asked Xander.  "And which part of 'those she loves will burn' isn't dangerous?"

"Look at it this way," the redheaded witch continued.  "Buffy loves Spike---."  She rolled her eyes when she saw both men visibly cringe at the words.  "Get over it, guys.  I'll say it again.  Buffy.  Loves.  Spike.  Spike's a vampire.  And what do vampires do when they get in direct sunlight?"

"They burn," answered Tara, her blue eyes wide.  "Wow, I totally didn't see that."

"Is anyone else thinking that we're spending way too much trying to decipher this stupid prophecy?" Anya interjected.  "'Cause all these interpretations are only giving me a headache and not doing us any good in finding Buffy."

"We know where Buffy is, Ahn," Xander said, patting her on the shoulder reassuringly.  "On a pl---."  He didn't finish the word as a distant thrum in the air caught his attention, raising his eyes to the sky.  Shielding his gaze from the sun by placing his hand over his brow, the young construction worker frowned as he saw the lumbering form of an airplane appear from behind a cloud, headed into a descent toward the mainland.  "Uh, Giles?" he asked.  "I thought Celie said this place had too many mountains for someone to land a plane."

The Watcher mirrored Xander's movements and together they watched the craft zoom overhead.  "Damn," he muttered, before turning and sprinting toward the dockmaster's office.  The group watched as he began arguing with the swarthy man, his words unintelligible but his intent more than clear.  The Englishman's face grew darker and darker, and the girls' eyes widened as Giles grabbed the other by the shirt collar, pulling him within inches of his face, his voice suddenly a low rumble in the distance.  It was all they could do not to cower when he came rushing back, having thrown the Greek against the wall.  "Follow me," he ordered, his words tight and crisp.

Clambering to their feet, the young people scurried after Giles as he hurried over to the parking lot, scanning the few cars there before settling on a truck parked nearest to the water.  "What is it?" asked Willow.  "What did he say?"

"He said," the Watcher said as he yanked open the driver-side door, "Daymon's arrival had just been cancelled because they were flying directly to his home instead."

"Is that it?" an impatient Xander pushed.  "He didn't say anything else?"

His blue eyes were livid behind his spectacles.  "I believe the last thing he said was 'ow'."  His head disappeared under the dashboard and the group heard the distinct sound of wires being ripped out.

"Giles?  Do we want to know what you're doing?" Anya questioned.

"I'm…hotwiring…this car," came the older man's muffled voice

"You know how to d-d-do that?" asked a flabbergasted Tara.

On the heels of her question, the truck roared into life, and Giles sat back up.  He looked out the window, his eyes now calm, but even more dangerous.  "I know lots of things," he said.  "Now get in."

*************

As he returned the headset to its base, the wiry Greek leaned back into his seat, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.  "You ever landed on this strip before?" he asked his co-pilot.

"Nope," came the response.  "It wasn't even there last time I was here."

"He said he had it built specially for this trip," said the first.  "Must have something to do with the American girl and her boyfriend."

The co-pilot looked at him steadily.  "Don't be thinking of asking any questions," he warned.  "This guy is not someone you want to be messing with.  Likes his privacy and wants to keep it that way.  Private, I mean."

"I know, I know."  And he did, even if he didn't like it.  He wasn't fond of passengers dictating the flight plans, especially when they changed them in mid-stream, and he really wasn't fond of landing aircrafts on unknown runways in the middle of the mountains.  Anything could happen.

"We'll be all right," the co-pilot added, as if he'd heard his partner's internal doubts.  "The master wouldn't be willing to risk losing his cargo on something as foolish as poor planning.  And that holds true for the strip as well.  I'm sure it's fine."  

I hope you're right, the first Greek thought, and gently, he maneuvered the plane downward.

*************

Velvety oblivion surrounded his being, his eyes blind, his limbs unable to move, and Spike wondered for a moment if he'd finally been staked and this was what true death was really like.  Then, their voices filtered through the fog in his head, their words indecipherable, their numbers unknown, and he knew…remembered…and raged at his own impotence.  Somehow, in spite of his determination, in spite of the heads-up, in spite of _everything_, they'd beaten him again, stopping him with something as simple as a tranquilizer dart, and he hated himself for it.  Hadn't he learned his lesson after the Initiative?  Wasn't he smart enough to know better than that?  Especially since he saw Buffy go down by exactly the same thing?

Whatever they'd used, it was powerful stuff, 'cause he bloody well couldn't move.  The vamp didn't even have a clue as to how much time had passed.  For all he knew, the ritual was already over and the Slayer was now either dead or some snake demon.  The brief wonder about what it would be like to shag her in that particular form flittered across his brain, but he quickly shoved it aside.  No.  Not his Buffy.  Wasn't going to happen.  Not while he could still walk and talk and fight.  

But the thing of it was…he couldn't do any of those things.  It was impossible for him to tell if he was bound or if this was merely an effect of the drug in his system, but either way, Spike was completely immobile and ignorant of where exactly he was.  And why the hell am I still alive anyway? he thought irritably.  I've got no purpose in this whole mess now that that bastard already has Buffy.  Why keep my undead ass around?

The questions eddied, bouncing around his skull like mortar, destroying what little control he had left until he felt like roaring out his frustrations for all to hear.  If---no, _when_---he got out of this, nobody was going to be safe, he vowed.  If he had to have his head explode, he was going to make sure that each and every one of Daymon's men paid for their involvement in this little escapade, but more importantly, Spike was going to ensure that the demon himself would hurt in ways that he had never hurt before.  His mental chuckle was sadistic.  If anything happened to her, his Slayer would most definitely be avenged…in oceans of blood…

To be continued in Part 33…


	23. Bound

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  The Scoobies are in Greece, but waited wrongly at the dock for Daymon's plane, only to learn that he is landing at his property.  Meanwhile, Daymon's men have used tranquilizer darts on Buffy and Spike in order to subdue them for the arrival.

*************

Her head was killing her, pounding like a sledge hammer, and Buffy groaned as she struggled unsuccessfully to sit up.  She was lying horizontally on a hard surface, something heavy wrapped around her chest and legs, pinning her arms to her sides.  When she tried to move her hands, the Slayer discovered that someone had even gone to the trouble of binding them tightly, making it impossible to flex or make a fist or even use them in any type of helpful capacity.  The soft fabric over her eyes meant she was blindfolded as well, although Daymon---it had to be him---had left her mouth ungagged.

The tingling in her skin told her she wasn't alone.  "I hope this isn't your idea of foreplay," she said, knowing instinctively that it was the Greek demon who was with her, "'cause gotta tell you, it's _really_ not working for me."

"I am glad to see you're finally awake," Daymon responded, ignoring her slight gibe.  "I feared my men might've misjudged the dosage."

Buffy felt a slight bump and heard for the first time the engine rumble surrounding her.  She was in some sort of vehicle, out of the plane, probably on the way to wherever this ritual needed to occur.  And if she was bound this tightly, she knew Daymon wouldn't have made the mistake again and left Spike free as well.  He's gotta be loving this, she thought, amused, and then stopped, sniffing the air, her heart rate almost immediately starting to accelerate.  

"Where's Spike?" she demanded. "I swear, if you've dusted him, they're going to have to come up with new words to describe how badly I'm going to hurt you."

The demon chuckled.  "Normally, I would be envious of such a bond," he said.  "To know your lover is not even here in spite of being bound and blinded, that is a very rare gift indeed.  But today, I do not worry about lacking this, because today, I already have you, and now it is only time that stands between me and my quest."

Buffy's heart thumped in her chest, threatening to break free from her ribcage.  "But, you didn't kill him, right?" she asked, desperately trying to maintain some sort of control over the waver in her voice.  "I mean, he's still alive---well, dead---well, undead, right?"

She heard him sigh and imagined he was shaking his head at her.  "Yes," he finally volunteered.  "I'm keeping him for some…amusement.  Afterward."  Buffy tensed as the dry touch of a scaled hand trailed down her cheek.  "It really is a shame we do not have more time," Daymon said, his voice low.  "You are incredibly beautiful.  It is so unfortunate I will not be able to enjoy that loveliness of yours after the ritual."

"You're not still thinking that's going to happen, are you?"  The young woman laughed.  "My friends know all about your plan and they're probably waiting for us as we speak.  They're very resourceful that way."

"You are bluffing," the demon replied.  "Brave for doing so, but bluffing nonetheless.  However, if it cheers you to believe that they will come to your rescue, then please, by all means do so.  I only wish for you to be comfortable for as long as you can."

"If that's the case, then why don't we make with the untying and let me go?" Buffy chirped.  "That would definitely make me more comfortable."

"In due time."

They rode along in silence, a heavy mantle hanging in the air, and the young woman began flexing what few muscles she could in an attempt to test the limits of her bonds.  Whoever had done it had been an expert, because the hand thing was a stroke of genius.  She had nothing but her own strength to use as leverage, no way to claw or dig her way free, and even that didn't seem like it was going to be enough as she strained to lift even her shoulders from the platform underneath her.

"It's really no use to struggle," Daymon said.  "I've ensured that they are more than secure."

"You're really not for giving a girl a fighting chance, are you?"  She was joking, but the anger and frustration that was already beginning to saturate her conscious crept into her voice anyway.  "I mean, the tranquilizer dart was a little overkill, don't you think?"

"You've proven more resourceful than I originally anticipated," he responded.  "How else could I be certain of success?"  There was a pause, followed quickly by another insidious chuckle.  "You really should have killed me when you had the opportunity, my dear."

"Funny," the Slayer remarked.  "I was just thinking the same thing."

*************

The sun was blinding as Giles thundered over the crest of the mountain, ripping the steering wheel sideways as he skidded around a curve.  Beside him, Tara clung to Willow's arm, who in turn gripped the armrest in her door, knuckles white, her face even whiter.  She screeched as a bird flew in front of them, almost hitting the windshield, burying her face into her girlfriend's shoulder.

"I said, stop screaming!" Giles reprimanded, his face grim as he maneuvered the vehicle around yet another curve.  "It's very distracting!"

"And the last thing we want right now is for him to be distracted!" added Xander from the back.  "I'd like to live long enough for Daymon to kill me, fair and square, thank you very much."

The silence was grim as they careened around another hairpin, the concentration tightening the Watcher's face, narrowing his already rapt attention.  They had lost sight of the airplane over half an hour earlier, and even though it had not seemed that far on the map, the circuitous route they were being forced to take through the mountains was delaying them longer than Giles was happy with.  How long would it take for them to disembark? he wondered.  If Buffy and Spike put up a fight, perhaps it could slow them down enough so that the gang could arrive with the weapons.  He almost laughed out loud as he considered what he'd just thought.  _If_ they put up a fight?  The idea that they wouldn't was ludicrous.  Both of them were natural survivors, born to refuse conceding defeat without a battle to the end.  They would do everything in their power to make it difficult for Daymon; the only question was…would it be enough?

"There it is!"

Giles almost jerked the wheel as Anya's arm came shooting out from behind him, pointing and jabbing excitedly at the small airstrip that was now lying before them.  His heart sank as he saw how deserted the area was; there were no people about, only a lone covered truck parked a short distance away.  "We're too---," he started to say, only to cut himself off when he saw the two men emerge from behind the plane and head for the only other vehicle.  "Get ready, Willow," he ordered, pushing the accelerator back down to the floor, "and hang on."

*************

He would never have deliberately chosen guarding a vampire from the duty roster, but considering what his alternative could have been, Nico was grateful for the task he'd been delegated.  Anything was better than having to go out to the cave.  Since he and Titus were the two who had been instructed to rig up the cage in the back of the truck anyway, it had only made sense that they be the ones to return their cargo back to Daymon's house.  Neither man had been expecting that they'd be transporting a drugged-up demon, but they weren't arguing.  He was harmless, the crew had said.  And you've got more than enough firepower to take him out should he prove otherwise.

Nobody else was around except for the flight crew and they were all still on board the plane.  "You hungry?" asked Titus as they shuffled over to the truck.

"Starving," the younger man said.  "Think we have time to stop for---."  His words became a gurgle as the dog appeared from nowhere, sailing through the air in an effortless leap, throwing him over twenty yards away from the plane so that he landed with a bone-crunching thud in the dust.  He started to yell at his partner, only to realize that it was already too late.  The snarling beast was atop Titus, its muzzle dripping as it bared its fangs, and Nico realized that the other man had already passed out, although if it was from actual injury or mere fright, he had no idea.

The roar of an engine erupted from behind the young man, and he twisted his body to see what was coming, only to groan out loud when the pain went shooting down his back.  It wasn't until the truck came roaring past did he see the new arrivals.  That's not one of Daymon's, he thought.  

As Nico struggled to sit up, the back door of the vehicle popped open, allowing a young man to jump out, a crossbow already cradled in his arms, training it directly on the Greek on the ground.  Behind him, the other occupants poured out, all of them armed, but most of them women…young women…young, very pretty women, he noted.  It was only when the driver finally emerged that Nico realized just who exactly was in charge.

The older man wasted no time.  "Where is your master?" he demanded in Greek.

"Gone," he replied, then bit his lip, remembering the warnings that had been passed down to him from the elders about revealing too much about Daymon's plans.

This obviously didn't please the leader, who turned to face the young people who surrounded him.  He barked at them in some foreign language---English, maybe?---and looked over at the truck before swiveling back to address Nico.  "Where has he taken the girl?" he asked this time.

The young Greek shook his head.  "I can't.  Daymon will kill me."

Before he could react, the older man's foot had shot out, driving into his stomach, sending a crescendo of pain radiating throughout his body.  He screamed, curling up into as tight a ball as the injury would allow, not noticing the worrying looks the younger people were throwing at their leader.

"I'll ask just one more time," the man said.  "Where has he taken the girl?"

It was excruciating, hurting more than anything ever had before in Nico's short lifetime.  "The…cave…" he finally managed, and groaned.  He would be punished for sure now; he only hoped that it would be quick.  His eyes were squeezed shut from the agony, but he heard the babble of voices as they seemed to be arguing amongst themselves.  Please go away, he thought.  Maybe I can still make a run for it…

"You're going to take us to him."

That opened the Greek's eyes faster than anything else the older man could've done, and he stared at him, appalled.  "You must…be joking," he sputtered.

"Do I look like I'm joking?"  

It was a rhetorical question, because they both knew that his demand was a serious one, but it didn't stop Nico from trying to get out of it anyway.  "He'll kill me," he whined.  "If I take you there, I might as well be signing my own deathwish."

"And if you don't, you're dead already."

*************

The drugs were wearing off.  Although his head was hurting more than if the chip had just gone off, Spike was grateful for the pain because it meant one thing…he was still in this world, which meant that he could still help Buffy.  His eyes fluttered open and, although it was dark, it was by no means the void he'd been experiencing earlier, merely shuttered from any outside light.  He could see the faint outlines of iron bars along the walls, covered with what looked like some sort of heavy black fabric, and the vampire knew at once that he was in sort of mobile cage, being shielded from the outside sunshine so that he didn't combust.  Although the daylight certainly threw a spanner into the works, Spike was determined not to let that hold him back.  He couldn't.  Buffy needed him.

Gingerly, the blond vamp sat up from where he'd been thrown on the floor, being careful not to jar his aching muscles, before using one of the bars as leverage to pull himself to his feet.  The world swam before him, but he closed his eyes and waited, knowing the dizziness would pass.  Soddin' drugs, he thought irritably.  One of these days, I'm goin' to find the bastard who invented 'em and pound him into the ground.

The voices he'd heard earlier were long gone, and Spike had been beginning to wonder if he'd just been left to rot when the sound of an approaching car roared into his consciousness, followed quickly by a lot of slamming doors.  More Greek, and then…was that English?  He stumbled in the direction of the new arrivals, pressing his ear against the fabric.  That one was a girl, and the dulcet tones that followed were yet another female…Tara?  Which could only mean…

"Hey!"  He'd meant for it to be a long, loud shout.  Instead, it came out as a croak, barely audible even in the confined space of his cage.  Spike tried again.  "Hey!"  This time, it was louder, but he didn't think he'd managed to grab their attention yet, as the conversation didn't seem to be stopping.  Grabbing onto the bars, he began rattling them with what little strength he had, screaming, "Giles!"

That brought a halt to the talking outside and the vampire struggled to pick out the sounds of light footsteps, running, approaching his confinement.  They stopped, and were immediately followed by, "Spike?"

"Red!"  The flood of relief that suffused his body was greater than he expected, and the vamp slumped against the bars.  They'd found them.  Somehow, some way, Giles had led the Scoobies right to where they needed to be.  Not going to slag off Rupes anymore, Spike vowed.  Not when he was now giving him the best chance he'd had in days to save Buffy.

The fabric was thrown aside, allowing the sunlight to knife through the air, instantly brightening the cage and sending the blond vamp scuttling backwards to avoid bursting into flame.  Willow's broad smile greeted him as he blinked against the radiance.  "You're alive!" she exclaimed.

"Not for bloody long, you keep lettin' in the light like that," he grumbled.  His squinting eyes relaxed as she let the fabric fall slightly.  "And it's about bleedin' time you showed up," he added.  "Everything's gone all pear-shaped."

The witch nodded.  "We know.  Buffy's already on her way to the cave.  We think that's where Daymon's going to do the ritual."  She straightened.  "And for your information, we've been in Greece longer than you have.  If anyone should be complaining about a certain someone being all tardy, it should be us about you."

Spike just looked at her, his dark eyes hooded.  She flushed, beginning to squirm, then turned to look over her shoulder.  The vampire's gaze followed hers, and he watched as Giles approached the truck.  Right, he thought.  Buffy said the Watcher knew, not goin' to back down from it.  He doesn't like it, he can just sod off.

"Are you all right?"

It was probably the last thing he expected to hear from the ex-librarian, and Spike cocked an eyebrow as he tilted his head, looking at the other man in amusement.  "It's been a crackin' day, thank you for askin'," he replied.  Giles' jaw tightened, and the vampire felt an edge of guilt for being so flip.  Don't be such a prat, he chided himself.  You don't have time for it right now.  "Bastard's men used tranquilizers to knock me and Buffy out," he added.  "That's how they separated us."

The Watcher nodded.  "He's prepared," he said.  "He's allowed for all contingencies."

"I'll lay money he hasn't allowed for you," the vamp countered.  "We can still get him, Rupe.  He's not expectin'---."

"There is no 'we,' Spike."  Giles looked down at the redheaded witch at his side.  "Go help Xander tie those men up, Willow."

"But Anya's the one who's the bondage expert," she argued, then stopped, her eyes widening, as she realized what he was really saying.  "Oh.  You're getting rid of me."

"Obviously, not very effectively, but yes, I'd like for you to go.  I want to have a word with Spike alone."

Willow waggled a finger at the older man.  "Play nice.  For Buffy's sake," she said, casting one last look at the blond vampire in the shadows.  "That goes for you, too," she added, before spinning on her heel and disappearing from view.

Spike couldn't help the smile that curled his lips.  So Red was on his side.  Not that it surprised him much; she and her girlfriend were the soft touches of the bunch.  Giles, on the other hand…

"How much did Buffy tell you about the prophecy?" he was asking.

The vampire shrugged.  "Just the basics.  Demon comes out of Daymon, demon goes into Buffy.  End of story."  

"There's more to it than that," the Watcher said.  "I don't have the luxury of having time to explain it to you, but trust me on this.  You cannot come along with us.  Buffy's life could very well be in even graver danger should you do so."

"And trust me when _I_ say, there is no way in hell you're leaving me out of this!"  The rage boiled in Spike's head, thrusting him forward to the edge of the shade, as close to the other man as he dared without bursting into flame.  "If you think I'm just going to stand back while Buffy needs me, you're not nearly as smart as I thought you were, Rupe."

"I know you love her," the older man said tightly.  "And I know she loves you.  That doesn't mean I like it, or that I even condone it, but it does mean that I know to what lengths you will go to protect her.  I know your history, Spike.  I've read about what you've done, about some of the things you did for Drusilla.  Out of _love_.  And I'd be a fool to believe that that might somehow change because you've transferred those feelings to my Slayer---."

"_Our_ Slayer, Watcher.  Our.  Slayer.  She's mine, just as much as she's yours.  Something happens to her, and we'll both suffer. Some how, someway, I'll get to Buffy, and I'll do my damnedest to save her.  Now, that would be a helluva lot easier if you just took me along, but if you're still so blinkered that you can't see what's staring you in the face, then I'll do it on my own.  If I have to rip this cage apart bar by bar, and burn in the bleedin' sunshine the entire way, I'll do it.  Because I love her."  He paused.  "She's everything to me.  You know that, right?"

There was a long moment as Giles regarded the vampire, blue eyes narrowed behind the lenses of his glasses.  "You can't leave the cage," he finally said.  "I'll take you with us, but you have to promise to stay out of it.  That's the only way I'll allow you to come."

His heart leapt at the chance.  "Whatever you say," Spike promised.  "Just don't leave me behind."  He watched as the older man turned away, calling for Xander.  One step closer, the vampire thought.  Hang on, luv.  I'm on my way…

To be continued in Part 34…


	24. Rituals

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  The Scoobies have found Spike and are on their way to the cave with him in tow, while Buffy is being prepared for the ritual.

*************

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, the only visual testimony to the tension in his body, the adrenalin surging through his veins.  So much had happened over the past two days, so many things that Giles would've thought were years behind him.  He'd killed another human---albeit a very evil one---and though he recognized the necessity of it, the reality that he'd done so because of…feelings, for a demon yet, was proving more overwhelming than he was prepared to deal with at this time.  

But that was the least of his worries at the moment.  As the truck lurched along the tiny country road, the Watcher's thoughts were mired in the consequences of the vehicle that followed him.  What if Cortina's interpretation of the prophecy was correct?  Allowing Spike to accompany them to the cave was inviting disaster, and should it be his demon that brought about Buffy's destruction, Giles would never forgive himself for being the one to permit it to happen.  He could've just told the vampire the whole story; that might've been enough to convince him to stay behind.  But, deep in his heart, the older man knew that wasn't true.  As someone who was ruled by his emotions, Spike would never be able to just sit back, to wait as others attempted to save his love, not when he thought he might be able save her himself.  

Although he knew that it wouldn't have made a difference to the vampire's response, Giles was already beginning to regret not being more specific about Buffy's potential danger.  Information itself was a weapon; how many times had he professed that himself to the Scooby gang?  And yet, here he was, deliberately refraining from telling Spike the whole story.  He knew it was because of his own stubborn refusal to accept the vampire as an equal in this whole Daymon mess, to not believe that his Slayer could actually have fallen for yet another demon, but that didn't make it any easier.  If Xander or Willow had pulled such a stunt, Giles would've been the first to reprimand them.  How could he hold himself no less responsible?

"Are you prepared?"  

The Watcher's head jerked to look at the bound man at his side.  In his reverie, he'd completely forgotten about the Greek who was directing them, and he frowned.  "Prepared for what?" he questioned.

"For the cave," the young man elaborated.  "You do understand its dangers, don't you?"

No, Giles thought.  Not more blasted complications.  Out loud, he said, "I'm not in the mood for games.  What in bloody hell are you referring to?"

The Greek sighed, shaking his head.  "I'll only tell if you promise to let me go when we arrive.  I am a dead man if my master learns of my betrayal.  If I run, I may be able to escape his wrath."

"Yes, yes, just tell me what we need to know."  No time for negotiations, the Watcher thought.  Once we've reached the cave, he won't be any use to us anyway.  And he's right about his life being in danger.  Might as well give him a fighting chance.

*************

He watched as Willow gripped the bars of the cage, hanging on for dear life as Xander careened over the bumpy road.  "You could've sat up front, you know," he commented.  "I don't need a babysitter."

The redhead grinned, in spite of her discomfort.  "I think Giles would disagree," she said.

Spike glowered.  "Watcher can't see what's right in front of his face," he muttered.  "I just want to help Buffy, but bloody wanker won't see that." 

Willow's eyes softened as she watched him bury his head in his hands, long fingers pulling at the soft curls.  "What did he say?" she queried gently.

"Thinks I'll make things worse by bein' around," the vampire answered, and lifted his face to look at his riding companion, the unshed tear shining in his blue eyes.  "I love her, Red.  I'd never hurt her."

The anguish tore at his voice, and Willow felt her heart melt at the sincerity in his words.  "He's just worried about Buffy," she said quietly.  "He doesn't want to take any chances."

"What's it goin' to take?" Spike asked.  "How many times am I goin' to have to save her before you guys start takin' me serious?  'Cause this second-class citizen crap is gettin' old, and I don't want Buffy gettin' caught in the middle of it."

She knew his questions were valid ones, that his observations were right on the money, but she didn't know the answers any more than he did.  "I don't know, Spike," she admitted.  "I just don't know."

The truck jerked to a stop, sending both of the cage's occupants sprawling to the floor.  "Harris couldn't find a stick shift if it was stuck up his ass," the vampire growled, scrambling to his feet before offering a hand to Willow to help her up.  He thought for a moment that it was just another of their pit stops as Xander and Giles got their bearings, but this time, the engine was almost immediately killed and he heard the slams of both front doors opening and closing.  The look from the redhead was all the confirmation he needed and together, they bolted for the rear of the cage, waiting for someone to come around and open it up.

*************

Xander squinted as the dark Greek sprinted toward a nearby hill, his legs moving faster than the construction worker would've thought possible for someone not being chased by a demon.  "You really think it's a good idea to just let him go like that?" he asked the Watcher as he rounded the corner of the truck.

"He's served his purpose," Giles replied, fumbling with the large ring of keys he'd taken from their newly released prisoner.  "I see no reason to harm humans who have agreed to help us with Buffy."

"Oh, yeah?" commented Anya.  "Tell that to the witch you killed at Cortina's."  She visibly shrank as the older man turned venomous eyes toward her, his face a dark thundercloud ready to explode.  "I'm just saying," she added defensively, clutching at her boyfriend's arm.

Drawing back the curtain that covered the cage, Giles was greeted by a waiting Willow and Spike.  The vamp retreated slightly as the light filtered through the bars, but with the truck parked facing the sun, most of its rays were aimed at the front of the vehicle as opposed to the rear, making it unnecessary for him to move very far.  Slipping the key into the lock, the Watcher undid the latch, allowing the door to swing free.

Spike just watched as the redhead jumped to the ground, his eyes narrowing as Giles let the gate loose, clanging slightly as it bounced off the cage's clasp.  They were parked just outside the cave's entrance and to be perfectly honest, he didn't get what the big fuss was about.  To him, it looked quite ordinary, with a smallish opening; there weren't any dead bodies laying about, or any demon markings.  What in hell were they just waiting around for?

"There's only one way in," Giles was instructing.  "One path with only enough room for us to go single-file.  Don't look around, just stay focused on the person in front of you---."

"Why?" asked Tara.

"Apparently, the walls are covered with demonic artwork that drives men mad."  He held up his hand as the young people rolled their eyes.  "I'm not saying it's true, but young Nico seemed fairly adamant about keeping your eyes straight ahead.  He claims that men who view the scenes leave the cave babbling idiots and eventually kill themselves.  Right after they start attempting to re-enact what they've witnessed."

"Sounds like absolute rot to me," snarked Spike from inside the truck.

Giles just glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.  "Frankly, I'm not inclined to believe it either, but, just to be safe, we'll do as suggested.  Understand?"  He waited as the Scoobies slowly nodded.  "Good.  Now, do we have everything?  Willow?"

The redhead patted the backpack slung over her shoulder.  "Yep, all set."

"And Xander and I are on weapons."  He glanced around at the horizon.  "Where did Elvis get to?"

"He should get here any minute now," Willow reassured.  "I gave him the scent, so he knows where he's heading."

"That dog will never fit inside that cave."  Spike was pacing back and forth at the edge of the sunlight, watching the gang organize themselves, not stopping even when Giles turned to look at him.  "If you're hoping poochie's goin' to be some help in there with your demon---."

"That's not our plan," the Watcher interrupted.  "He's for stopping anything from escaping once we've already entered."  He swiveled on his heel, heading for the cave opening, his voice floating back to the vampire behind him.  "And for keeping you in your cage…"

Spike growled as the Scooby gang disappeared, one by one, into the cave.  So close and yet…so far.  Although they'd left the cage door unlocked---something he wasn't sure that they even realized---the sunlight was as good as keeping him captive, not to mention the damn demon dog that would be showing up any minute to stand guard as well.  He felt like raging against the unfairness of it all…Buffy was so close…and she needed him…how in hell was he going to get to her?

As he plopped down onto the lone bench in the cage, Spike felt a soft bundle under his foot, and glanced down.  Red's jacket.  In such a hurry, must've forgotten all about it.  He bent over to pick it up, then froze, as the germ of an idea rooted itself in his head…

*************

He'd kept her blindfolded during the entire journey, even when whatever she was in had jolted to a halt.  She'd been slid out, still on her back, and had only known she was in sunshine by the direct heat on her face, the warmth suffusing her torso, creeping down her legs.  It was reminiscent of her first dream about Spike, and she imagined his fingers as they thrust themselves deep inside her.  The tingle the memory sent through her thighs was enough to make her sigh, and she heard Daymon stop whatever he was doing and approach her.

"As much as I would like to believe that it is for me you sigh so longingly," he'd oozed, "I suspect you are thinking of your vampire lover.  He is quite the lucky man to have a woman who gets aroused merely at the remembrance of his touch."  He chuckled.  "Do you think he will want you as much after the ritual?  Or will he be repulsed when this lovely skin of yours is covered in scales?"

"It's not.  Going.  To happen," Buffy had said through gritted teeth, and began doing her best to wrench free from her bonds yet again.  Her struggles had ceased, however, when she felt the men who'd removed her from the truck grab hold of her yet again, walk with her out of the sunlight, and immerse her again in an icy coldness.  Gone was the day, replaced by a frozen glove encasing her skin, and her Slayer senses starting exploding all over the place.  She wasn't sure where she was, but one thing was certain…it was evil.

How long they'd walked, how far…she had no idea.  The only thing the young woman was aware of was the encroaching sense of disaster.  It was taking too long; with every passing minute, Buffy knew that the odds of the gang or Spike getting to her in time to help her escape were diminishing, and she wasn't exactly sure she could get out of this one on her own.  They weren't physical bindings holding her in place; it was magic, and all her super-Slayer strength did absolutely zilch when it came to fighting that.  

And when they laid her out, and she felt the cold stone beneath her back, the knot in her stomach grew tighter, hardening into a frigid lump, and she had to swallow hard in order to breathe properly.  She felt scales brush against her cheek, and it was all the young woman could do not to physically flinch at Daymon's touch.

"Very soon," he crooned, and those long fingers slid under the blindfold, liberating it from her face.

The sudden explosion of light blinded her, and Buffy blinked as she tried to clear her vision.  Vaguely, she saw the outline of the Greek demon towering over her, then slide away, presumably to do something connected with the ritual.  She wanted to follow him with her head, but all of a sudden, she couldn't move that either, her muscles frozen…immobile…and it was then that the fear really began to settle in…

From off to the side, Daymon's voice began to chant in a language she couldn't understand, Greek most likely, she reasoned.  She had no idea what he was saying, but the poetic cadences of his words seemed all too familiar.  I've been around Willow long enough to know what magic sounds like, Buffy thought.  It's the ritual.  It's too late.

And then the light around her burst into flame, exploding with a radiance too overwhelming to perceive…and she wanted to look away…but she couldn't…her breathing ragged, her pulse racing…watching as it swam before her…the scream being torn from her lips even before she realized it…

*************

It was the chilling echo of his Slayer's screams that spurred Giles to hasten his step.  They were close, he could feel it, but the agony in her voice made him worry that it was already too late, that all their efforts had been for naught.  The windings of the path had stolen his sense of direction; he only knew forward...only knew onward…but in that way lay Buffy, and he would drive on.

All of a sudden, the trail widened, and the group spilled out onto a narrow ledge encircling a shallow pit.  The stone of the passageway was replaced by earth and the Scoobies edged around, each one's gaze locked on the tableau laid out before them.

Buffy lay spread-eagled on a platform at the center, her mouth wide open as the screams still gushed forth from her throat.  She was barely clothed, and her skin shone in the brilliant light that seemed to be hovering all around her.  Just off to her side, Daymon knelt before a tiny lectern, a scroll spread out on top of it, the ancient words of the cleansing rolling from his tongue.

"It's already begun," Giles murmured.  He looked over at Xander, whose jaw twitched in anger, and nodded.  "Aim for its head," he instructed, and lifted his crossbow.

Two arrows went slinging through the air, but within feet of their target, they stopped, bouncing as if they'd struck a wall.  The chanting faltered, then continued, while both men quickly reloaded…tried again…

The light grew suddenly brighter and the scaled demon lifted his head to stare up at the arrivals with cold, black eyes.  Victory shone there as he slowly rose to his feet.  "She told me you would come," he said, "and I laughed at such an innocent bluff.  I see I have underestimated yet again."  He smiled.  "But you are too late.  The cleansing has already begun.  See how the powers are already preparing?"  The demon turned his back on the group, gesturing toward the radiance that now engulfed Buffy.  "No man can stop the ritual now."

*************

All he could hear were her screams, and they tore at his heart as he ran down the cave's corridor, the burns on his hands already forgotten.  The dog had been easily fooled by the scent of Willow's jacket, and Spike had made his break for the cave's entrance with the coat draped over him, hoping and praying that his vampiric speed would get him o safety before he burst into flame.  He'd been fortunate; only his hands had burned, but that pain was nothing now that he was drowning in the sounds of Buffy's terror.

He burst into the cavern, his sight immediately assaulted by the glow that permeated its center, oblivious to everything but the sight of the woman he loved and the demon towering over her.  "No!" he screamed, and launched himself downward, aiming directly for Greek's shoulders.  As he flew through the air, he heard the Watcher's voice cry out…

*************

"Spike!  Don't!"  Giles yelled at the blond vampire as he rushed past them, vaulting himself into the pit before them.  There was no sign of recognition that he'd been heard, and he felt the bile rise in his throat as the older man realized that he wasn't being stopped by whatever had stayed their own arrows…he was soaring through…

As they watched in horror, he tackled Daymon in mid-turn, catching him off-guard, the force of the impact sending the scaled demon sprawling away from Buffy and driving Spike to his knees.  He shook his blond head as if to clear it, starting to stand, and the group held their breath as the light that had been engulfing the Slayer suddenly rushed forward, slamming into the chests of both the young woman and the vampire at her side.  

Time froze, and the Scoobies could only stand by as the radiance seemed to shriek, the voices of Slayer and vampire mingling as one…then dying down…

Buffy's inert form slowly began to rise, straightening inch by inch, while at the same time, Spike's body was being forced down, stretching out as it went more and more horizontal, matching the other in speed.  Each looked asleep, their eyes closed, their faces in repose, and the irrational question of whether they were both dead flickered across the Watcher's mind as he stood helpless to prevent it from finishing.  

Their movements ceased, leaving Buffy in mid-air, her arms still akimbo, head hanging, golden hair hiding her face.  The vampire was now prone on the earthen floor, and Giles found his gaze riveted on the chipped demon.  He seemed to be changing, right before his very eyes…skin darkening---reddening, really---almost as if…

A piercing squeal tore from the light, and the brilliance immediately abated, although didn't disappear.  Was it over?  But no…it still surrounded the pair, albeit much softer.  There was a movement on the floor…had to be a trick of the light, but must inspect further…

And it was then that the Watcher's pulse skipped a beat, his head raining torrential denials against his skull, because he'd seen it.  It had happened.  And there it was again…

…Spike's chest rising…falling…rising again…

…as if he was breathing…

His blue gaze tore upwards, gluing to his Slayer, watching her head slowly rise, the hair clinging shamelessly to her cheeks, hiding her…until she turned, her lids fluttering open…

…and stared at the Scooby gang with the golden eyes of a vampire…

To be continued in Part 35…


	25. And They All Came Tumbling Down

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  The Scoobies got to Buffy too late to stop the ritual from starting, but Spike interrupted it, taking Daymon's place as the demon.

*************

Something was different.  He was himself, but not, and he didn't know why, could feel only the yawning barrenness gnawing at his gut, echoing in his head, creating a tympani of tremors throughout his body.  Unconsciously, Spike took a deep breath to try and steady his nerves, then froze.  What the bloody fuck was that? his mind demanded.  Vampires don't need to breathe; what are you playing at?  He tried holding himself still, steeling his chest, refusing to inhale, but within seconds his lungs were screaming for satisfaction and he gulped at the chill air.  It was real.  He was breathing.

Thoughts…questions…churned inside his skull.  How was it possible?  Humans were the ones who had to breathe, not…

And the reality of his situation began to crystallize, sending waves of shock rolling through his body.  The ritual…jumping Daymon…then the light…The prophecy had been fulfilled through him, not the Greek, and if he opened his eyes, Spike knew that he would be greeted by a vampire Buffy.  And Giles…he had known, had tried preventing him from coming.  Why the hell didn't he just tell me what could happen? he raged, only to be answered by a tiny voice at the bottom of his consciousness.  Because he knew it wouldn't make a difference, it said.  You would've shrugged away the possibility and argued that Buffy needed you.  

She still does, he thought.  Not goin' to let this happen.  The magic that had been pinning him down seemed less now, and his eyes fluttered open, his head slowly turning.  There she was.  Her back was to him, but her head was turned, eyes staring sadly at the Scoobies congregated on the ledge.  Golden eyes.  Once upon a time, he'd loved another set of golden eyes, worshiped at the shrine of his ridged princess, but this…this was Buffy….this was…

He frowned, the disparity scratching at his skin…

…not quite right…

*************

It had scorched her from the inside out as it smashed into her chest, and Buffy gasped as the pain began to eat at her innards.  Nothing in her life had ever hurt this much, not even that stupid vamp the previous fall who'd managed to stake her with her own weapon.  She knew she'd screamed from the agony, but she didn't care; the only thing that seemed to matter was finding a way to vent the torture.  She'd felt everything…the lifting of her body…the twisting sensation as whatever that had entered her took root…

And she could've sworn she'd heard Spike, but that couldn't be…had to be part of the nightmare that was swirling around her.  But what if it wasn't?  What if by some miracle of chance the vampire had managed to find her, to do his best to rescue her from Daymon?  She had to look, had to see…

It had been a struggle to even lift her head, her body suddenly not her own, fighting as if walking through tar.  When her hair had fallen from her eyes, she'd seen the gang, clustered along the rim of the cavern, their faces ranging from frightened to worried, to aghast.  Something was wrong about them, though…off, as if someone had been playing with the color adjustment on the television.  In fact, the entire world was like that…tinged in gold…

She saw him then, sprawled on the earthen floor beside her, frighteningly fragile-looking as he looked up at her with those deep blue eyes.  Her heart wrenched as she realized just how achingly beautiful Spike really was…the mad desperation that carved his face in agonizing splendor…the trim muscles that seemed to scream to be touched…that chest she'd fallen asleep against just hours previously…

It was then that she saw it move, and almost immediately saw what had happened to him, what had happened to…her.  It explained the gnawing hunger that was growing in her belly, the growing insurgence of thoughts that seemed foreign, yet familiar.  

Turning her attention inward, Buffy concentrated on those, trying to make sense of them, understand just what they were…what they meant.  Flashes of running girls, swooshing skirts…a high-pitched feminine laugh…the gentle sway of a subway car…and blood, lots of it…its smell, its taste, its power as it suffused her being…

And she understood, without having to ask, without knowing why.  These were Spike's memories, an integral element of his demon, now an integral part of her, and it all seemed to make sense at once.  The images were coming in fast and furious now, and she felt her heart thunder in her chest as the wide range of his emotions manifested themselves in her core…the anger…the bloodlust…the frustration…the futility…and the strongest of all…

…the love…

*************

He could feel the grit of the floor beneath his head, and the realization that he'd been thwarted began to burn in Daymon's gut.  The ritual's magic was oppressive and only now, with the first step undergone, was it abating enough for him to lift his head, to survey his surroundings.  The vampire had taken his place in the cleansing and now lay prone just a few feet away.  Only, he wasn't a vampire anymore.  Daymon could smell the humanity on him, coating the air in layers of musk, the fear dripping off his skin.  

And there, just above the platform she'd only recently rested upon, was the Chosen One, looking around with her newly formed demon eyes, and his hope plummeted.  It was too late for him.  The Chalice had already been filled.

The fury rose in his throat like bile, and Daymon swung back to survey the blond man who had brought about his failure.  How many times had he had the chance to kill Spike, only to allow him to live, either through Buffy's interference or his own vacillation, and now it was this same creature who repaid that favor by stealing from him the rebirth he had so desperately sought for decades.  The irony of it shook him, and he slowly struggled to rise, fighting the heavy cloak of magic that still permeated the pit.  Spike would pay for it…and Daymon would bathe in his blood…

*************

It started as a rumble, and Willow and Tara exchanged a look of alarm before the first tremor hit, sending the group stumbling to their knees.  In the pit, Daymon was thrown aside as the vibrations began to multiply, pitching the world around him, growing louder, more intense.  The quaking sent Spike rolling away from Buffy, but for the first time since the transference, he found himself free of the magic's shackles, his muscles his own again, and he clambered to his hands and knees as he fought for his balance.

The only one not affected was Buffy, and she watched as the others in the cavern were thrown about by the earthquake.  Dust from the ceiling began to sprinkle the air, to expand into larger clumps as the tremors grew in strength and in number.  In one corner, an entire section of the roof caved in, allowing the sunlight to send sudden illumination bouncing around and exposing the results of the quake for all to see.

Giles lifted his head, his eyes widening in alarm as he saw the ground begin to split, chasms suddenly appearing throughout the cavern, and the irrational fear that they were all going to be sucked into some demon pit of hell flashed through his head.  That was quickly dispelled, however, as the truth almost immediately made itself known.

Beside him, Xander's sharp intake of breath only exacerbated the chills that were running down the Watcher's spine.  "What…are they?" the young man hissed.

"'The vermin who cling to evil's underbelly,'" Giles quoted, his voice barely audible in the din, his gaze locked onto the hands that were clawing at the earth, pulling the re-animated bodies from the soil, their ridged faces empty of anything but hunger, their fanged mouths agape.

"Oh, sweet goddess," breathed Tara.  "What are they doing?"

The newly-born vampires were crawling toward Buffy, clambering over the debris in their way, even if it took the form of a scaled demon or a blond human.  When the first reached her, it grabbed at her ankle, using it to hoist himself up, and the Scoobies could only look on in horror as it sank its fangs into the flesh on her thigh.  Others followed suit, and it was only after the third and fourth had attached themselves to her did the young woman react, her legs kicking out as she flailed to free herself.  

"They're…feeding," Giles murmured.  He was transfixed by the strength that Buffy was displaying, battling the ritual's magic as she fought for her own…humanity?  His head whirled.  But she houses Spike's demon, he argued.  She has the eyes, the power of a vampire.  How can she still fight if she has been…

And the discrepancy that had been chewing at him became clear.  "Willow," he hissed.  "Get your bag."

The redhead frowned, but did as she was told.  "But it's too late, Giles," she said as she pulled out the heavy book, struggling with it as another tremor sent her reeling to her bottom.  "Buffy's already a demon."

"Not yet."  The Watcher took the tome and immediately began flipping through the pages, looking for the text that Cortina had pointed out to him in her library.  "We still have time."  

"How is that possible?" demanded Anya.  "Buffy's our very own golden girl.  You saw her eyes."

"Yes, but I didn't see any ridges," Giles explained.  "Plus, she's still alive.  That's why the vampires are leeching her.  In order for Buffy to complete the ritual, she must die.  And we're going to stop that from happening."

*************

Spike didn't know why they were ignoring him; he was an easy kill.  Without his demon strength, these new vampires could've taken him had they chosen, yet they didn't.  Instead, they concentrated on getting to Buffy, and his heart leapt to his throat when he saw the first bury its teeth into her tender flesh.  Had to stop it, had to find a way…even if it meant he had to die himself…

With what energy he had remaining, the blond scrambled over the rising body of a nearby demon, clutching at the ground for support.  The scabby fingers of the newly-animated corpse wrapped around his ankle, holding him back, and he glanced back, his face twisted into a snarl, lashing out, the boot of his heel connecting with the creature's jaw, snapping its head back and breaking its grasp.

It seemed to take an eternity.  For every foot forward, Spike was pushed back, and he could feel his strength start to wane.  Each obstacle, though, only steeled his resolve, urged him onward, until, finally, he was at her feet.  

*************

There were too many.  In spite of the infusion of power surging through her veins, Buffy could sense that she was losing the battle, that the vampires who were drinking from her were slowly beginning to overwhelm her capabilities, and she began to panic.  No, she thought.  It can't end like this.  I refuse to let them win.

As she shoved yet another corpse away, her gaze was caught by the blond head swimming toward her in the sea of death.  Seeing Spike only fortified the young woman's tenacity, and she punched with extra vigor at a demon attached to her left arm, knocking it down into the throng, allowing her lover the extra clearance to reach her.

"Spike…" she whispered, and bent down, offering him her hand.

*************

The sparks jumped over the heads of the feeding vampires, and Willow's eyes widened as she witnessed the fusion of her best friend and former enemy.  Unable to look away, she nudged her girlfriend gently, and together the two witches watched, spellbound, as the light surrounding Spike and Buffy electrified, charging the atmosphere of the cave with its power.  With excruciating grace, the blond man rose to stand beside the Slayer, his blue eyes locked with hers, before turning to start beating down the newly born away from the young woman.

Their grip never broke.  Using their combined strength, the pair became a symbiotic dance of death as they fought the horde, an elegant study of animal magnificence.  Willow was mesmerized.  If before she'd had any doubt, it was now banished.  They were perfectly matched, their movements synchronized as if by some unseen force, complementing the other's strokes as she'd never seen before.  She almost didn't hear Giles when he hissed, "Willow!  Pay attention!"

Tearing her gaze away, the redhead resumed laying out the herbs as the book instructed.  "I don't think the cleansing is working," she said.  "I think Spike's messed it up somehow."

"Well, that's a bloody surprise," the Watcher muttered.  "When doesn't he?"

"I'm serious," insisted Willow.  "Look."

An unwilling Giles lifted his eyes and was met with the sight of two golden-eyed fighters availing themselves against the onslaught around them.  He was about to turn away, then stopped.  Two?

"The demon's confused," Anya offered.  "Spike's put himself into the place of the Chalice and it doesn't know where to go."

"It would certainly appear so," the older man murmured, and watched as a particularly powerful kick on the part of his Slayer sent a vampire flying through the air, crashing into the wall, landing directly in the pool of sunlight introduced earlier during the quaking.  Almost instantly, it burst into flame, self-immolating before exploding into dust.  

Willow and Giles looked at each other, the same thought in each of their heads.  They were closer to the surface than anyone had realized.  That meant…perhaps they weren't as weaponless as they'd originally believed.  "Tara can bring it down," she said.  "I'll focus on the reversal."

The Watcher nodded, and he grabbed the blonde witch by the wrist, pulling her away from the others.  "This is what we're going to do," he started.

*************

She'd never felt so powerful.  The energy that bound her to Spike was invigoratingly robust, and she could feel the hunger inside her dissipating.  Once, she stole a glance at the man beside her, and was met by his golden eyes glittering in the scattered light.  Buffy didn't question it but instead innately recognized the demon reflected there.  After all, it was still a part of her as well.

The vampires were tiring, and in spite of the blood that now flowed freely from her various wounds, the Slayer's strength never flagged.  Her body was a whirlwind of kicks and punches, and it wasn't until she saw the rising form of the scaled demon at the edge of the platform that she decided.  Enough was enough.

She didn't even have to tell Spike.  Together, they turned to face Daymon, imbued with the force of their bond, and started their attack.

*************

Against one, he might've stood a chance.  Against two, the Greek demon found himself floundering, unable to gain control.  Everywhere he turned, he was met with violence---a punch in the jaw, a kick to his chest---and the constant battering quickly took its toll.  He felt his muscles begin to scream in protest under the barrage, a torturous exercise of fire and mutiny, and started to shrink away, the sudden fear that he would lose this battle overcoming his sense of honor.  Must live, can't fight, must run.  As he started to back up, retreating from the two who were so determined to bring him down, the scaled demon tripped over the inert form of an unconscious vampire, landing on his back with his tail broken beneath him, helplessly staring up at the duo with black eyes suddenly shiny with fear.

As one, Spike and Buffy leapt from the platform, alighting atop Daymon, continuing their assault with hardly a break in rhythm.  Left punch…right kick…power yielded as deadly as any sword, they were intent on their victim, venting their own angers on his now motionless form.  As the world started to fade around him, he heard the chanting from the ledge, and wondered briefly what the witches were up to.  It doesn't matter, he thought, as he began to drift away.  All is lost anyway…

*************

Buffy saw the light in Daymon's eye fade and the sudden elation that surged through her jump-started her heart.  It was almost over.  Glancing at her partner, she reveled in how his blond hair shone in the growing light in the cavern, his mouth a firm but sensual line.  Almost imperceptibly, Spike nodded.

It was the only encouragement she needed.  Breaking contact with her lover for the first time since he joined her on the platform, the Slayer leaned over and grasped the scaled demon's head, wrenching it sideways with an audible crunch, the delicate bones in his neck shattering and the black eyes going cold and lifeless, before letting it fall with a satisfying thump back onto the earthen floor.  

She was about to turn back to Spike when the sudden clump on the top of her head caused her to look up.  There, in the ceiling, a fissure…and another…joined by yet more.  What the…? she wondered, then saw the focused Tara chanting and gesticulating on the ledge.  A spell for…And before she could finish the thought, a huge section of the cavern's roof crashed to the ground, letting the bright Greek sunshine free rein to irradiate the dim space.

A group of the newly-raised vampires were caught in the blast, and almost instantaneously burst into flame.  Buffy's smile was wide.  God, she loved having friends, especially ones that were as resourceful as the Scoobies.  Around her, the remaining demons tried scrambling to safety, but their movements were too slow.  One by one, they vanished into a sparkle of dust.

The sound of Willow's voice began to rise above the din, and the Slayer swiveled to look over at her best friend, only to stop when she saw the flames beginning to lick up Spike's arm.  Her heart stopped, her reaction automatic as she launched herself at him, throwing both of them against the platform, her body covering his, shielding him from the deadly sunshine.  Frantically, she beat out the flame with her bare hand, heedless of the sudden pain it was causing her, before looking back to see the ridges start appearing in his forehead.  She didn't know what was happening, but she didn't care, as her eyes blazed with longing for him, her body all too aware of how he felt underneath her, his growing erection against her hips causing her own arousal to intensify.  Without breaking his gaze, Buffy lowered her head, meeting his lips with hers, seeking and finding the sanctuary Spike offered her.

The crack pierced their eardrums, deafening all within the cavern, causing each to cringe in pain, and the sudden brilliance blinded them to everything surrounding.  By the time Giles could look up, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear his own vision, Tara was already gazing down into the pit, her mouth open, the fear etched in her eyes.  Slowly, he turned his own gaze to the ritual platform.

Although he could barely make out the form of the vampire underneath her, the Watcher could see Buffy quite clearly and he knew what frightened the young woman at his side so.

With blood trickling from her ears and nose, his Slayer lay motionless atop an equally unconscious Spike…

To be continued in Part 36…


	26. Unity

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  Buffy and Spike have managed to kill Daymon, and, although the pair is now unconscious, it appears that the Scoobies have managed to reverse the ritual.

*************

With a crisp grace, Giles leapt from the ledge, circumventing Daymon's inert form as he bolted to Buffy's side.  The blood was dripping from the tip of her tiny nose, pooling on the earthen floor, while her hair was starting to mat where it coagulated amidst her tresses. Gently, the Watcher slid his hands under her stomach, lifting her away from the blond vampire, turning her carefully in his arms so that her head hung back, the elegant lines of her neck exposed to the open air.  Although he was relieved to see the steady pulse that beat there, Giles was only too aware of the multitude of wounds that still bled across her body, weakening her with every passing moment.

"Willow!" he called, the harshness in his voice contradictory to the flurry of anxiety in his gut.

She was already moving, gathering her magic paraphernalia, scooping it into the duffel before easing herself over the edge and into the pit.  The power from the reversal spell still surged through her system, and the redhead felt as if she could do anything at the moment, command whatever forces she desired; she only had to say the words.  That, however, was the furthest thing from her mind right now.  Right now, she had to help Buffy.

"She's alive," Giles said unnecessarily.  "But she's weak."

"Whaddaya want me to do?"

"Get 'er outta here."  His voice was weak, but steady, and the duo looked over at Spike with surprise, almost as if they'd forgotten he was there.  At some point, his game face had slipped away, and now his clear blue eyes gazed up at them, the worry apparent even to them.  "There's still residual magic here," he elaborated.  "It's drainin' her.  I can feel it."

"But what about you?" Willow asked.

"It doesn't want me," Spike said softly.  "I'm not the human one anymore."  He started to lift himself up onto his elbows and winced as the pounding in his head caused the world to swim around him.  His discomfort didn't go unnoticed, and the blond vampire was surprised when Giles pressed him back onto the floor, his touch firm but unthreatening.

"Don't move," the older man said.  As Spike watched, he gestured to the remaining gang members, and waited until they were in a circle around him.  "Get him up onto the ledge," he ordered.  "And make sure you keep him out of the sunlight."  Giles turned back to the vampire.  "Remind me when we get back to Sunnydale that I wish to discuss your lack of impulse control, Spike."  There were no recriminations in his face though, the unspoken understanding passing between the two Englishmen as Xander eased his arm under the vampire's shoulders, helping him clamber to his feet.

"So, we need to let our candles do the walking, right?" asked Willow.  

"What?" A confused Giles blinked once before realizing what she meant.  "Oh, yes.  Dolly."  As the redheaded Wicca set up her transdemonic call, the Watcher wiped the blood staining his Slayer's face, brushing back the hair from her eyes, remembering all too vividly the way she'd appeared during the ritual.  His nightmares about her being turned had diminished over the years, but it didn't make them any less frightening, any less disturbing.  The ordeal might be over for her, but for Giles, it would last a lifetime.

Although he only had Spike's word for it, somehow the older man knew that Buffy had reverted to her human self, that the vampire's demon had been expelled from her body.  What he didn't know was if its temporary inhabitance would have any permanent effects.  He'd witnessed her extra strength while she was fighting Daymon, and had seen how it had been augmented when Spike had joined her on the platform.  He didn't want to consider the grander implications of what that meant, but he'd be a fool to ignore them.  Still, there was a time and place for everything, and right now, that meant getting Buffy out of here.

Dolly's appearance was startlingly quick.  As she materialized within the cavern, Giles watched as she turned around, surveying the fissures in the floor, the gaping holes in the ceiling.  Slowly, she shook her head, her tongue audibly clucking in spite of not yet being solid.  "You went and broke it," she commented.  "I know some demons who aren't going to be very happy about losing their summer retreat."  When she turned back to look at the Watcher, she noticed the bleeding young woman in his arms for the first time.  "Did you break your Slayer, too?" she asked.

He ignored her comments, rising to his feet with Buffy still held tight to his chest.  "She needs out of here as quickly as possible," Giles said.  "Get us back to Cortina's.  Now."

"You don't want a hospital?  I thought all you humans went running to the doctor every time you got a little scratch."  Although she didn't cower, his withering gaze was enough to cause the demon to redden slightly.  "All right, all right.  Cortina's it is, then."  She looked around at the others, adding as she started to fade, "I'll be back for you guys in a bit."

Spike was the only one who didn't watch as the green-haired demon vanished with Giles and Buffy.  He didn't need eyes to know that the Slayer was no longer in the cave; the hollow in the pit of his stomach was more than enough to broadcast the lack of her presence.  The bond they'd shared prior to their arrival in Greece had been strong; now, after everything, it was almost as if they shared the same skin, the same heart…even if his didn't beat anymore.

Although he hadn't lied when he'd told Rupert that she was human now, he hadn't been completely honest, either.  Yes, his demon was no longer housed within her body, but something had most definitely been left behind...some fragment of the essence that was Spike.  The time they had been joined up on the platform…he'd felt everything she was feeling…had heard her thoughts as if they were his own…had experienced her memories as if he had actually been there.  Some of it was expected---the overwhelming sense of duty and responsibility, her fierce protectiveness of her family and friends, the power sheathed within her tiny frame---but others had been a shock, and not all of it pleasant.  For instance, going through her heartache as Captain Cardboard had lifted away in the helicopter was something the platinum vampire could've spent an eternity without knowing, as well as having to feel the innocent young love she'd had for Angel.  Even the brief flash of it now across his mind's eye was enough to bring a grimace to his features.  

Mistaking his disgust for pain, Tara knelt over the blond vampire, her blue eyes searching his own for some sign of what was wrong.  "Do you need something?" she queried.  "I could probably do a l-l-little spell to ease the pain."

"Not necessary.  I'll be right as rain soon enough."  He watched as she straightened, starting to turn away.  Bollocks, he thought.  Just do it.  "Thank you," he said abruptly, unable to meet her startled gaze as she looked down at him.

A crooked smile slowly spread across the witch's face.  "You're welcome," she replied. 

It was as if Tara's approach had opened some unseen door, and Spike could only watch as Xander sat himself down next to the vampire.  Without looking at him, the young construction worker started speaking.  "What you did for Buffy," he said, "that took guts.  And…you were right.  Hooking up with Celie was a pretty dumb thing to do."  It was the closest he was going to come to an apology, and both men knew it.  It didn't matter.  It was enough.

Red was next.  "You do know that your intervention is what saved Buffy, right? If you hadn't jumped in to save her, it would've been Daymon's demon that went through the ritual and we would've been too late."

"Too late for what?"

"The reversal," she explained.  "Vampires need dead hosts, and since Buffy wasn't, that gave us enough time to do the spell.  So, mucho gracias."

"Is that what it was?" he grumbled.  "Felt like a bloody stake in my chest.  And how come Buffy didn't spill about that little goldmine?  She made it sound like we were pretty much puppets in this whole cleansing show.  That kind of spell changes everything."

"She didn't know," Willow admitted.  "Shoot, _we didn't know until Cortina brought it up as a possible countermeasure.  Even then, we weren't sure it would even work.  So yeah, you were pretty much Kukla, Fran, and Ollie there."  She frowned.  "Wait.  Wasn't one of them of the non-doll-like variety?"_

"Fran," Anya chimed.  "She was the host.  Very much human."

The witch turned back to Spike.  "So, Kukla and Ollie then."

"Well, on behalf of Ollie, the effort's appreciated, Red."  

There was a long, comfortable silence, during which time the gang just looked around at each other, finally settling on Anya as she hung back near the cave's wall.  She bristled.  "I didn't do any of the magic or inadvertently get another bad guy involved in the mix, so I really don't have anything to add," she said defensively, "but since it seems I must say _something…Spike, thank you for being the one who got set on fire instead of us."_

*************

Once away from the cave's influence, Buffy's Slayer healing skills started kicking into overdrive, and Giles realized there was very little that he actually needed to do for her, other than make her comfortable.  Although she never woke, her breathing grew stronger, the bleeding from her various orifices seemingly stopping of their own accord.  Even some of the bite marks were already fading, and the Watcher found himself wondering how many scars she would have as a result of this latest averted disaster.

Part of him felt as if it was his failure, his fault that Buffy had suffered as greatly as she had.  He knew it was irrational, that prophecies had a sneaky way of happening whether you liked it or not, but as her mentor, he was the one who was ultimately responsible, whether she liked it or not.

Everyone was asleep.  The others had returned not too long after he, and immediately crashed, each to his or her previous bed.  Even Spike had disappeared, once he'd checked with Giles that Buffy was going to be all right.  He had watched the vampire's retreating form as he ambled down the corridor, and realized that the other's presence was going to become quite a familiar thing, now that he was involved with his Slayer.  The Watcher may not like it, but he could no longer ignore the fact that Spike had risked everything for Buffy, had in fact refused to accept the gift of humanity in exchange for the woman he loved.  That in itself was admirable.

In the wake of all the excitement, Giles was restless, unable to stop thinking long enough to relax, pacing the hallways until he'd found himself standing outside Cortina's library.  There had been no sign of their hostess since their return; Dolly had said that she was still recuperating…wherever it was she'd been taken.  Frankly, he'd been disappointed.  A part of him---a big part of him---missed the white demon…her teasing…the laughing blue eyes…her forthright manner…and though logically he recognized that such serious injuries as hers required time to heal, Giles couldn't help but feel slightly let down by her absence.

His hand hovered over the door knob as he debated whether or not he should enter.  Surely, Cortina wouldn't mind if he spent a few hours looking over her books; her earlier invitations had certainly seemed as if she wasn't averse to his interest in her library.  And it wasn't as if he didn't know how to properly treat such valuable pieces of literature; after all, he wasn't Xander.

The room was in darkness as he stepped inside, and Giles wondered briefly where a demon would put a light switch, whether it would be on the wall or in some obscure place that he'd never imagine would house one.  As his hand groped around the edge of the door, he heard the audible squeak of a chair behind him, and froze.  Must be one of Cortina's men, he thought.  Better let them know who it is so I don't end up as someone's shish kebab.

"No need for alarm," the Watcher said.  "It's only---."

"Rupert."

Her voice was the last Giles was expecting, and he blinked as the library suddenly flooded with illumination. His sudden erection took him completely by surprise, but the smile that spread across his face was unabashedly pleased.  "But, Dolly said…" he started, taking a single step toward the desk, unconsciously taking off his glasses.

"Isn't she the best?" Cortina teased, as she slowly rose to her feet.  "It's always nice to have friends who'll help with…surprises."  Casually, she leaned against the desk corner, her robe draping just enough to outline the curve of her hip, accentuate the rise of her breast.  

Giles' eyes swept over the delicate features of her face, searching for any evidence of her previous trauma, and he was surprised---pleasantly so---to find her skin glowing blemish-free, the ravages brought about by the alcohol nowhere to be seen.  "How…?" he queried, gesturing abstractly to his face.  "I mean, do healing capabilities come as part of the Vrolek package as well?  Not that I'm not thrilled you've been restored to such good health, but it just seems rather…sudden."  He blushed, his blue gaze ducking slightly.  "You look marvelous, by the way."

"I only wish I could take credit for it," the white demon said, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on her leg, drawing the Watcher's gaze back to her, to the hidden promise of her thigh.  "Dolly teleported me to a dimension that handles time differently than this one.  You might've only been gone a day or two, but I've been away for over a month.  And as much as I appreciated the special nursing, I haven't been that bored in decades."  Her head tilted, a sweep of hair falling against her cheek.  "You have no idea how glad I am to be back.  Or, how good it is to see you.  I don't think I have to worry about being…bored anymore."

"Yes…well."  Glancing over at the books, Giles cleared his throat before continuing.  "I must thank you for the texts you let us borrow.  They proved most valuable in Greece."

Cortina affected a pout.  "You want to talk about work," she sighed, straightening.  "OK, if you insist, I guess I can do that."  As she began to close the distance between them, she continued, "Everything worked out all right then?  Dolly said she brought both Buffy and Spike back."  She stopped before the older man, raising her hands so that they fluttered just at his collar, nimbly undoing the top button before dancing downward to the next.

The breath caught in Giles' throat as he glanced at the elegance of her fingers skating across the cotton of his shirt.  "All…right, yes."  He could only watch as another button slipped from its fastening.

"You didn't need the witch?"  And yet another escaped…

"No."  Although she wasn't even touching him, he could feel the heat from her hands etching a dangerous path down the center of his torso.  God, how long had it been since a woman had affected him in this way?  Not a woman, a little voice argued.  A demon.  Giles shoved the thought away.  Doesn't matter…

"I haven't thanked you yet for saving my life," Cortina said casually, lifting her pale blue gaze to his face.  "You impressed the hell out of Dolly with that one.  Not that I ever doubted you were capable of something like that…"

His fingers wrapped around one of her wrists, locking her movement, preventing her from finishing the disrobing she'd started.  "That's not what…this is…is it?" the Watcher queried.  "Because I don't want---."

Cortina's free hand ran down the side of his hip.  "One doesn't have _anything to do with the other," she said.  "Inopportune timing on my part.  I'm sorry."_

Giles didn't respond, only slid his grip, interlacing her fingers with his own, and lifted her arm to his mouth, his lips pressing firmly to the inside of her wrist before parting to allow his tongue to outline the tiny throbbing veins.  She tasted of honey-roasted almonds, the perfume of her skin a delicate mixture of heather and freshly turned soil, and his mouth watered at the anticipation of further exploration.  Gently, his teeth nipped at the tender flesh of her inner arm, traveling downward to the crook of her elbow, sucking at the heat it found there as if it provided some lifeforce necessary for him to breathe.

The sensations arched the white demon's back, hardening her nipples so that they stood erect against the soft cotton of her robe, and she pressed her hips into his, feeling the outline of his erection straining against his trousers.  "So," Cortina breathed.  "Who am I getting?  The Watcher?"  Her pale blue eyes gleamed.  "Or Ripper?"

Giles tore his mouth away, letting her hand fall gently to her side, and brought his face within inches of hers, their gazes locked.  "The joy of experience," he murmured, "is that you get both."  He circled his arm around her waist, scooping her up against his chest, at the same time bending his head to devour her lips with his own.  

The moment he made contact, felt the tiny point of her tongue sweeping along his teeth, Giles knew…knew how much he'd been wanting to feel her weight in his arms…knew how devastated he'd been when he'd thought she'd been killed by Celie…but most importantly…knew how much brighter his world seemed now that it was inhabited by her ivory splendor.  It had been a long time since he'd felt such an overwhelming hunger for a woman, longer still since he'd acted on it.  He wasn't about to let this one go.

Never breaking the passion of their kiss, the Watcher stepped forward, carrying her to the edge of the desk, leaning the white demon backwards until her shoulders pressed into its hard surface.  His arm slid out, hands sliding down to catch the hem of her robe, gathering it upward to expose the arch of her calf…the succulence of her thigh.  His fingers quickly discovered that she wore nothing underneath as they found the naked curve of her hip disappearing into her tiny waist.

Cortina broke the kiss, pushing him away slightly with the flat of her hand.   "I think it's better off," she said with a coy smile, taking the fabric away from his grasp.  "I just hate the feel of all that material bunched up around my neck.  It's very suffocating."

Giles watched as she whipped off the garment, tossing it behind him to land with a soft plop on a stack of books.  He had to admit, he'd been wondering what she would look like without it, if her…demon-ness manifested itself in other ways, not apparent while she was clothed.  However, for all intents and purposes, she appeared human…very much a woman…with full breasts that seemed to be begging for his mouth.  There was no sign of her stabbing, no scar where it had sliced into her stomach, but even without that particular roadmap, Giles knew exactly where her wound had been, and laid his hand gently over the spot.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper.  "I don't want to hurt you."

Cortina's laugh was gentle, but genuine.  "Oh, Rupert," she gasped.  "And here I've been worrying about being the one to hurt you."

His mouth lifted upward into a smile, and the gleam returned to his eye.  "No reason for both of us to be holding back then," he said wickedly, and leaned his head over, snagging the nearest erect nipple between his teeth while his hand raked along her inner thigh…

To be continued in Part 37…


	27. Full Circle

DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Well, the baddies are mine.  OK, Cortina's mine, too.  But everything else really is his.  Too bad.  
SUMMARY:  All the baddies are dead, the Scoobies have made their peace with Spike, and Giles finally got a little one-on-one time with Cortina.  Now, all that's left is Spike and Buffy…

*************

He waited until the Watcher was gone before slinking his way back to Buffy's room, taking special care not to wake any of the others as he meandered through the corridors.  Giles had deposited the wounded young woman in a different room than the one she'd shared with Spike before, and the platinum vampire wasn't entirely certain where exactly she now rested.  Should've been paying closer attention, he chided himself angrily.  Or better yet, should've just stuck around and told Rupert to bugger off.

Even as he thought it, though, Spike knew he'd never have said it out loud.  Something had changed between him and the Scoobies---their behavior back in Greece had been blatant testimony to that---and, whether he liked it or not, he wasn't so blinkered that he didn't realize being a part of the Slayer's life meant accepting and supporting her friends.  In all fairness, Giles _had been the one to ensure Spike didn't turn into torchboy under the cloak of sunshine that Tara's spell had created, and he hadn't argued with the vampire's assessment of Buffy's wellbeing, had instead accepted it without question and acted appropriately.  Always a first for everything, he thought, shaking his head.  Only been telling them what they've been needing to hear for three years now._

The tingling started in his skin before he'd even rounded the corner, an electrical charge that threatened to burn its way deeper as it wrapped him in its fiery embrace.  This was it.  He'd found Buffy.  Spike thought he'd been sensitive to her presence before, but this new awareness sent those old beliefs scattering in the wind like dust, consuming him with its fervor.  If the vampire was forced to put a label onto it, he would've said that this newfound receptivity made him feel almost…alive.

His feet took him automatically to the first door on his left, but when he lifted his hand to turn the doorknob, the vampire hesitated.  Perhaps he should just let her sleep; after all, it had been a helluva day for her.  Spike almost snorted out loud as the irony of that hit him.  Hell, it had been a bitch of a day for all of them.  Nothin' like goin' from vamp to human and back to vamp again to throw a spanner into his bodyworks.  

As he stood there struggling with his indecision, the door opened, revealing a very much awake Buffy just standing there, her head tilted as she watched him hang back.  "You're never going to stop lurking, are you?" she said lightly, the tease a vague glint in her hazel eyes.

Spike's gaze swept over her tiny form.  She'd gotten some extra clothes from somewhere, and these managed to hide most of the bite marks from their earlier adventure.  All that was visible was the sweep of her neck…her wrists as they arched into those small but powerful hands.  He frowned when he saw the bandage swaddled around her right, reaching out to cup it gently in his own before rational thought could stop him.  Even through the wrapping, he could feel the burn radiating its heat up her arm, and remembered how she'd used it to extinguish the flames that had threatened him back in Greece.  Yep, most definitely preferred Action Buffy…

"It doesn't really hurt," the young woman said softly, lowering her gaze.

Spike's lips curled up in one corner.  "Liar," he retorted.

At his gentle accusation, Buffy looked up, saw the worry hiding behind the bravado in his face.  He could feel the pain as if it was his own, just like she could feel the ache in his arm where the sunshine had done its flaming damage.  Beating out the fire had seemed like the most natural thing to do, and even with the burns that now seared her hand---probably putting her out of fighting commission for a few days at least while it healed---she wouldn't have done anything differently.  Not when she could've lost him.

"Is Giles gone?" she asked, peering around him at the dark corridor.

"For now.  Probably off in search of some bum-numbing demonic texts that only Cortina can provide."  He shook his head.  "Rupert really needs to find some better ways to relax."

Turning around and stepping back into the room, Buffy grabbed the blanket off the bed.  "Great," she said.  "I'm just dying for some fresh air."  She brushed past the blond vampire, and was halfway down the hall before she stopped and glanced back at him.  "You're coming, right?"

It took only a moment for Spike to make up his mind.  She was asking for him; how could he possibly say no?  As he sauntered up to the Slayer's side, his blue eyes flickered to her outstretched hand, the left undamaged one, and he slid in his own to clasp it.  The intertwining of their fingers was automatic, a comfortable familiarity welcomed by both, and they walked in silence down the hallway.

Buffy was the first to speak.  "She really wasn't that pretty, you know," she said, glancing up at him out of the corner of her eye.  "Kinda pasty, in fact.  A regular Pillsbury dough girl.  And don't get me started on her hair.  The only thing worse than that was her really sucky sense of timing."

Spike's eyebrows knit together.  "What in bloody hell are you talkin' about?"

"Cecily.  That was her name, right?"  At his tentative nod, she shook her head.  "She makes Cordy look like Mother Teresa.  What a bitch."

"You…know…"  The vampire's azure gaze darkened, the confusion etched in his face.  "How…?"

Buffy shrugged.  "Who knows how _any of this works?" she said quietly.  "The memories started when your demon jumped into me, and then they went into super-turbo overload when you came up onto the platform."  She hesitated.  "Did…you…get any of mine?"_

There was no point in lying.  "Yes."  His face relaxed as he smiled.  "You know, if I still had the Gem, we could've acted out that little dream of yours.  Maybe finished it properly."  Her blush was his only response, and he chuckled as he gave her hand a squeeze.  "And you're right.  She was a bitch."

*************

As she emerged from the cave, Buffy tilted her head back, inhaling the crisp desert air, closing her eyes in bliss as it filled her lungs, refreshed her tired muscles.  Somehow it seemed like a century since she'd been outside, and she was mildly surprised to find that she was really missing her nightly patrols.  It would be such a relief to get back to those once she was home again. And now, Spike would be able to officially help her with those.

The vampire hung back, watching as the Slayer revelled in the cold moonlight, stretching her arms over her head before bending deeply at the waist.  Although her feline grace was a joy for him to behold, part of him tugged at his head with doubt.  "Don't be overdoing it," he cautioned.  "Rupert's just lookin' for an excuse to put a stake through my heart."

Straightening, Buffy glanced back at him over her shoulder, a twinkle in her eye.  "Since when is Big Bad afraid of a little ol' Watcher?" she teased.

"Since he found out I'm in love with his Slayer," Spike growled, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her against him.  

As her own arms twined around his back, the young woman met his azure gaze, darkened by the velvet sky, and felt her heart skip a beat.  "Do you feel…different?" she queried.  "Now…after what happened in Greece?"

"You mean other than knowing what Captain Cardboard likes in the sack?" Spike responded dryly.  "'Cause that'll scar a man for life."

"Oh, like I'm not going to be stuck with Drusilla dreams for all eternity," Buffy retorted.  "No, I mean…inside.  God, I wish I knew how to describe it.  Kinda like, all of a sudden, when I look at you…I _am you.  And I can see me as if---."_

"---you were inside my head," the vampire finished.  One hand came up and pushed the golden hair off her forehead, sliding down to cup her cheek.  "Yeah, know exactly what you're talkin' about."

Abruptly, the Slayer pulled herself from his embrace and reached over for the blanket she had tossed on the ground immediately upon exiting the cave.  Spike watched as she opened it up, laid it out on the desert soil, and sat herself down near the edge, knees bent, arms propping up her torso as she leaned back and looked expectantly up at him.

Rather than sit at her side---something he knew she was expecting---Spike stepped around her, settling himself behind the young woman, long legs splayed to surround hers, and pulled her backwards so that she could use his chest as support.  His arousal pressed into her ass, and he couldn't help but smile at the sigh of contentment that escaped her lips.  He had waited a long time for this; now that it was here, it almost didn't seem real.

"It is real."  

He was glad her back was to him, that she couldn't see the surprise or shock on his face at her vocal reassurance of his unspoken thoughts.  If she could sense his, then maybe…And he knew, without hearing it, without her saying anything or moving in any way.  He just…knew.

The vampire's head lowered, and his lips brushed softly against Buffy's bare neck.  A shudder ran through her body, sending a wave of tremors undulating through her skin…into his...and he drank in the heady perfume of her scent as he attempted to control the impulses that were racing throughout his system.  Not that way, he told himself.  Not tonight.  Tonight is going to be…magic.

His lips were a feather as Spike's tongue outlined the vein in her neck, following it upward to her jaw, and then tracing the path back to her earlobe, taking it between his teeth in a gentle nip.  Her gasp announced her arousal, even more so than the distinct musk emanating from between her legs, and the platinum vamp felt the quickening of her heart as it sent vibrations through her skin and into his.  Though the urge was strong to do otherwise, he deliberately slowed his pace even further, tracing the inner scroll of her ear with just the very tip of his tongue, tightening his arms around her almost imperceptibly.

Buffy's hands reached down, grasped his thighs, holding on as if the very touch of him would ground her, prevent her from floating away into the star-speckled night.  The fire he was building inside her was smoldering, fanned by his dancing caresses, and the young woman yearned to just throw caution to the wind and jump him then and there.  

His chuckle was a rumble in her ear.  "Do that, and you won't get this," he murmured, and his icy hand slipped under the hem of her shirt, stroking her abdomen, before gliding downwards…under her waistband…over the cleft where her hip met her thigh…into the slick channel between her legs.

She bucked as she felt his fingers slowly slide inside her, the cry ripped from her throat as her nails dug into his legs.  Quickly, Spike pulled her back against him, forcing her to stay in contact with his chest, pinning her so that she was helpless to struggle against his lazy exploration.  As he pushed his hand deeper, he was rewarded with another scream, this one cutting through the silent desert sky with its passion.  

"Please," Buffy breathed, her breathing ragged.  

It was the only invitation the vampire needed.  Pulling his hand out from her core, he kept it inside her pants as he slid it around, grabbed her hip, using it as leverage to twist her around and lean her back into the blanket.  Her golden tresses splayed around her, catching the moonlight, and he drank in her loveliness before lowering himself to her lips.

Although gentle, there was a spark as the two made contact, barely touching, eyes still wide open so that each could watch the other.  Swallowing her very breath, Spike closed the gap between them, his chest against hers, pressing her down into the ground, all the while dancing over her mouth, sending icy shivers down her spine, curling her toes into the blanket.  Buffy's hands reached around and cupped his ass, guiding his hips even closer to hers, marvelling yet again at the caged power contained within his lean frame.  Will I ever get tired of this? she wondered.  But the answer came quickly, fast even by her standards.  Not in a million years…

Their kiss deepened, lips exploring the other's as if for the first time, ice melting in flame as Spike swept her mouth with his tongue, tasting her…savoring her…delighting in that unique flavour that was all Buffy's.  Neither had thoughts; each was running on instinct, the simple drive that powered them…defined them…created their very world.  There was no desert; there was no moon; there were no stars.  There was only him…and her.

Somehow, their clothes seemed to disappear, and the young woman clung to her lover's bare back as she felt his erection tease along her wet opening.  Without a word, she lifted her legs, curled them around his hips, guided him in, sheathing him with her heat.  Spike shuddered.  He was home.  This…this haven of her embrace…this was where he belonged…and there was nothing he wouldn't do in this world to hang onto it.  Slowly, almost languorously, he began pumping into her…

…one hand tangled in the coils of her hair, keeping her mouth to his…

…the other on her hip, thumb stroking her skin as he regulated their pace…

Time stood still, ignoring the passionate young lovers as they rocked against each other, their moans echoing across the desert floor, the scent of their sex wafting along on the dry night breeze.  A cricket chirped, but neither heard, lost as they were in the glory of their union.

Spike's tempo quickened, his thrusts gradually growing harder…more demanding…and Buffy found herself matching him, stroke for stroke.  Pulling away from his kiss, she gazed up into his face, eyes flickering over the shadows cast by the moon across his cheekbones, devouring his azure eyes as they stared back at her.  "I love you," she whispered, and saw the gleam of pleasure as he hastened his movements, riding her even more strongly, burying himself with each penetration…

The wave started in the pit of her stomach, swelling as it threatened to emerge from her skin, and her breath caught in her throat, sending the world into a spiral of music and laughter.  Instead of being swept away, oblivious to her surroundings, however, Buffy found herself locked to Spike, feeling the explosion in his body as he let out an animal roar and slammed into her, that familiar face disappearing as his demon emerged, his fangs elongated.  She didn't even think, just grabbed his head…pulled him down into the curve of her neck…holding it there as his teeth sank into her tender flesh.

The bite ignited the fireworks within the young woman's being, obliterating any trace of the outside world…giving her only the ecstasy of Spike's embrace…the storm of their emotions a gale to ride in abandon.  

As it abated, Buffy felt Spike retract his fangs, lick daintily at the small wound he'd created in her neck, before lifting himself up to look down into her face.  "You didn't have to do that," he murmured.  "You've lost a lot of blood already today.  I shouldn't have---."

She cut his words off with a kiss, the coppery taste of her blood still lingering on his tongue.  "Like you hated it," she laughed, her voice low.  "It's your fault anyway.  If you weren't so damn right all the time…"

The blond vampire cocked his eyebrow.  "What is that supposed to mean?" he quizzed.

Buffy reached up and ran her index finger over his bottom lip.  "You were the one who said it about me," she said.  "And it's true."  Her hand slid around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, lifting her own head so that her lips hovered just beside his ear.

"…Yours…"

*************

The gentle breeze ruffled the Hound's fur as he laid his head down onto his paws.  He was tired; it had been a very, very long day, and now he was happy to be able to rest.  His new caretaker slept, and though she wasn't close, he knew she would be there for him come morning.  Unlike the dark one, she would not let her charge suffer, would tend to his needs, just as he would do whatever it was she asked.  He didn't know what tomorrow was going to bring; he was only aware that his current job was done…

…that he could sleep in peace…

…and that the hunt was finally over…

The End

Author's Note:  I just want to thank everyone for taking the time to let me know what you've thought of the story.  It's been such fun to write; I'm glad others enjoyed it as well.  On a different note, I've received a couple---unexpected---requests to write a Giles/Cortina fic, but I don't know if this something people will want to read (or just random yearnings for more Buffy fic from the masses).  If this might be something you'd be interested in seeing, please let me know.  Although I don't have tons of free time, I do really like the idea of a G/C story, so if I know others want it as well, I'll get to work on that…


End file.
